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AN 



American Girl Abroad. 



BY 



ADELINE TRAFTON 



*y/£J>. 






ILLUSTRATED 
BY MISS L. B. HUMPHREY. 




BOSTON: 

LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 

New York : 

lee, shepard and dillingham. 

1872. 



Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1872, 

By LEE AND SHEPAKD, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



THE LIBRARY 
Of CONGRESS 

WASHINGTON 






Electrotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundry, 
No. 19 Spring Lane. 



I DEDICATE 

ris gUtorfc of peasant jlap 

TO MY FATHER, 

REV. MARK TRAFTON. 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



i. 

" At night we descended into the depths of the steamer to wor- 
ship with the steerage passengers." Frontispiece. 

II. 

" A dozen umbrellas were tipped up ; the rain fell fast upon a 
dozen upturned, expectant faces." 57 

III. 

" At the word of command they struck the most extraordinary- 
attitudes." 157 

IV. 

"Frowsy, sleepy, cross, and caring nothing whatever for the 
sun, moon, or stars, we stood like a company of Bedlamites, 
ankle deep in the wet grass upon the summit." . . . 176 

V. 

" Evidently the little old woman is going a journey." . . 196 

VI. 

" Together we stared at him with rigid and severe counte- 
nances." . . . . , 240 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

ABOARD THE STEAMER. 

We two alone.— "Good by." — "Are you the captain of this 
ship ? " — Wretchedness. — The jolly Englishman and the 
Yankee. — A sail ! — The Cattle-man. — The Jersey-man whose 
bark was on the sea. — Church services under difficulties.— 
The sweet young English face. — Down into the depths to 
worship. — " Beware ! I stand by the parson." — Singing 
to the fishes. — Green Erin. — One long cheer. — Farewell, 
Ireland 13 

CHAPTER II. 

FIRST DAYS IN ENGLAND. 

Up the harbor of Liverpool. — We all emerge as butterflies. — 
The Mersey tender. — Lot's wife. — " Any tobacco ? " — 
"Names, please." — St. George's Hall. — The fashionable 
promenade. — The coffee-room. — The military man who 
showed the purple tide of war in his face. — The railway 
carriage. — The young man with hair all aflame. — English 
villages. — London. — No place for us. — The H. house.— 
The Babes in the Wood. — The party from the country. — We 
are taken in charge by the Good Man. — The Golden Cross. — 
Solitary confinement. — Mrs. B.'s at last. . . . .27 

7 



8 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER III. 

EXCURSIONS FROM LONDON. 

Strange ways. — " The bears that went over to Charlestown." — 
The delights of a runaway without its dangers. — Flower 
show at the Crystal Palace. — Whit-Monday at Hampton 
Court. — A queen baby. — "But the carpets?" — Poor Nell 
Gwynne. — Vandyck faces. — Royal beds. — Lunch at the 
King's Arms. — O Music, how many murders have been com- 
mitted in thy name ! — Queen Victoria's home at Windsor. — 
A new "house that Jack built." — The Pound Tower. — Stoke 
Pogis. — Frogmore. — The Knights of the Garter. — The 
queen's gallery. — The queen's plate. — The royal mews. — 
The wicker baby- wagons. — The state equipages. . . . 43 

CHAPTER IV. 

SIGHT-SEEING IN LONDON. 

The Tower. — The tall Yankee of inquiring mind. — Our guide 
in gorgeous array. — War trophies. — Knights in armor. — 
A professional joke. — The crown jewels — The room where 
the little princes were smothered. — The "Traitor's Gate." — 
The Houses of Parliament. — What a throne is like. — The 
" woolsack." — The Peeping Gallery for ladies. — Westminster 
Hall and the law courts. — The three drowsy old women. — 
The Great Panjandrum himself. — Johnson and the pump. — 
St. Paul's. — Wellington's funeral car. — The Whispering 
Gallery.— The bell 55 

CHAPTER V. 

AWAY TO PARIS. 

The wedding party. — The canals. — New Haven. — Around the 
tea-table. — Separating the sheep from the goats. — " Will it 



CONTENTS. 9 

be a rough passage ? " — Gymnastic feats of the little steamer. 

— 0, what were officers to us? — "Who ever invented ear- 
rings ?" — Dieppe. — Fish- wives. — Train for Paris. — Fellow- 
passengers. — Rouen. — Babel. — Deliverance. . .68 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE PARIS OF 1869. 

The devil. — Cathedrals and churches. — The Louvre. — Mod- 
ern French art. — The Beauvais clock, with its droll, little 
puppets. — Virtue in a red gown. — The Luxembourg Palace. 

— The yawning statue of Marshal Ney. — Gay life by gas- 
light. — The Imperial Circus. — The Opera — How the em- 
peror and empress rode through the streets after the riots. — 
The beautiful Spanish woman whose face was her fortune. — 
Napoleon's tomb 76 

CHAPTER VII. 

SIGHTS IN THE BEAUTIFUL CITY. 

The Gobelin tapestry. — How and where it is made. — Pere La- 
Chaise. — Poor Rachel ! — The baby establishment. — " Now 
I lay me." — The little mother. — The old woman who lived 
in a shoe. — The American chapel. — Beautiful women and 
children. — The last conference meeting. — "I'm a proof- 
reader, I am." 90 

CHAPTER VIII. 

SHOW PLACES IN THE SUBURBS OF PARIS. 

The river omnibuses. — Sevres and its porcelain. — St. Cloud as 
it was. — The crooked little town. — Versailles. — Eugenie's 
" spare bedroom." — The queen who played she was a farmer's 
w jf e . _ Seven miles of paintings. —The portraits of the presi- 
dents 100 



10 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER IX. 

A VISIT TO BRUSSELS. 

To Brussels. — The old and new city. — The paradise and purga- 
tory of dogs. — The Hotel de Ville and Grand Place. — St. 
Gudule. — The picture galleries. — Wiertz and his odd paint- 
ings. — Brussels lace and an hour with the lace-makers. — 
How the girls found Charlotte Bronte's school. — The scene 
of " Villette." 109 

CHAPTER X. 

WATERLOO AND THROUGH BELGIUM. 

To Waterloo. — Beggars and guides. — The Mound. — Chateau 
Hougomont. — Victor Hugo's " sunken road." — Antwerp. — 
A visit to the cathedral. — A drive about the city. — An ex- 
cursion to Ghent. — The funeral services in the cathedral. — 
" Poisoned ? Ah, poor man ! " — The watch-tower. — The 
Friday-market square. — The nunnery. — Longfellow's pil- 
grims to " the belfry of Bruges." 122 

CHAPTER XI. 

A TRIP THROUGH HOLLAND. 

Up the Meuse to Rotterdam. — Dutch sights and ways. — The 
pretty milk-carriers. — The tea-gardens. — Preparations for 
the Sabbath. —An English chapel. — " The Lord's barn." — 
From Rotterdam to the Hague. — The queen's " House in the 
Wood." — Pictures in private drawing-rooms. — The bazaar. 
— An evening in a Dutch tea-garden. — Amsterdam to a 
stranger. — The " sights." — The Jews' quarter. — The family 
whose home was upon the canals. — Out of the city. — The 
pilgrims 134 



CONTENTS. 11 

CHAPTER XII. 

THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 

First glimpse of the Rhine. — Cologne and the Cathedral. — 
"Shosef in ter red coat." — St. Ursula and the eleven thou- 
sand virgins. — Up the Rhine to Bonn. — The German stu- 
dents. — Rolandseck. — A search for a resting-place. — Our 
Dutch friend and his Malays. — The story of Hildegund. — 
A quiet Sabbath. — Our Dutch friend's reply. — Coblentz. — 
The bridge of boats. — Ehrenbreitstein, over the river. — A 
scorching day upon the Rhine. — Romance under difficulties. 

— Mayence. — Frankfort. — Heidelberg. — The ruined castle. 

— Baden-Baden. — A glimpse at the gambling. — The new 
and the old " Schloss." — The Black Forest. — Strasbourg. — 
The mountains. 147 



CHAPTER XIII. 

DAYS IN SWITZERLAND. 

The Lake of Lucerne. — Days of rest in the city. — An excur- 
sion up the Righi. — The crowd at the summit. — Dinner at 
midnight. — Rising before "the early worm." — The "sun- 
rise " according to Murray. — Animated scarecrows. — Off for 
a tour through Switzerland. — The lake for the last time. — 
Griitlii. — William Tell's chapel. — Fluellen. — Altorf. — Swiss 
haymakers. — An hour at Amsteg. — The rocks close in.— 
The Devil's Bridge. —The dangerous road. — " A carriage has 
gone over the precipice! " — Andermatt. — Desolate rocks. — 
Exquisite wild flowers. — The summit of the Furka. — A de- 
scent to the Rhone glacier. — Into the ice. — Swiss villages. — 
Brieg. — The convent inn. — The bare little chapel on the hill. 
— To Martigny 168 



12 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

AMONG THE EVERLASTING HILLS. 

The quaint inn. — The Falls of the Sallenches, and the Gorge 
de Trient. — Shopping in a Swiss village. — A mule ride to 
Chamouni. — Peculiarities of the animals. — Entrance to the 
village. — Egyptian mummies lifted from the mules. — Rainy 
days. — Chamois. — The Mer de Glace. — " Look out of your 
window." — Mont Blanc. — Sallenches. — A diligence ride to 
Geneva. — Our little old woman. — The clownish peasant.— 
The fork in the road. — " Adieu." 189 

CHAPTER XV. 

LAST DAYS IN SWITZERLAND. 

Geneva. — Calvin and jewelry. — Up Lake Leman. — Ouchy and 
Lausanne. — " Sweet Clarens." — Chillon. — Freyburg. — Sight- 
seers. — The Last Judgment. — Berne and its bears. — The 
town like a story. — The Lake of Thun. — Interlaken. — Over 
the "VVengern Alp. — The Falls of Giessbach. — The Brunig 
Pass. — Lucerne again 201 

CHAPTER XVI. 

BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 

Coming home. — The breaking up of the party. — "We start 
for Paris alone. — Basle, and a search for a hotel. — The 
twilight ride. — The shopkeeper whose wits had gone " a 
wool-gathering." — "Two tickets for Paris." — What can be 
the matter now ? — Michel Angelo's Moses. — Paris at mid- 
night. — The kind commissionaire. — The good French gentle- 
man and his fussy little wife. — A search for Miss H.'s. — 
" Come up, come up." — " Can women travel through Europe 
alone ? " A word about a woman's outfit 220 



AN 

AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD, 



CHAPTER I. 

ABOARD THE STEAMER. 

We two alone. — " Good by." — " Are you the captain of this 
ship?" — Wretchedness. — The jolly Englishman and the 
Yankee. — A sail ! — The cattle-man. — The Jersey-man whose 
bark was on the sea. — Church services under difficulties. — 
The sweet young English face. — Down into the depths to 
worship. — "Beware! I stand by the Parson." — Singing 
to the fishes. — Green Erin. — One long cheer. — Farewell 
Ireland. 

E were going to Europe, Mrs. K. and I — 
alone, with the exception of the ship's com- 
pany-- unprotected, save by Him who watches over 
the least of his creatures. We packed our one trunk, 
upon which both name and nationality were conspicu- 
ously blazoned, with the necessaries, not luxuries, of a 
woman's toilet, and made our simple preparations for 
departure without a shadow of anxiety. " They who 
know nothing, fear nothing," said the paterfamilias, 
but added his consent and blessing. The rain poured 
in torrents as we drove down to the wharf. But 

13 




14 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

floods could not have dampened our enthusiasm. A 
wild Irishman, with a suggestion of spirituous things in 
his air and general appearance, received us at the foot 
of the plank, one end of which touched earth, the other 
that unexplored region, the steamer. We followed the 
direction of his dirty finger, and there fell from our 
eyes, as it Avere, scales. In our ignorance, we had ex- 
pected to find vast space, elegant surroundings, glass, 
glare, and glitter. We peered into the contracted quar- 
ters of the ladies' cabin. One side was filled with 
boxes and bundles ; the other, with the prostrate form 
of an old lady, her head enveloped in a mammoth ruf- 
fle. We explored the saloon. The purser, with a wen 
and a gilt-banded cap on his head, was flying about like 
one distracted. An old gentleman similarly attired, 
with the exception of the wen, — the surgeon as we af- 
terwards learned, — read a large book complacently in 
one corner, murmuring gently to himself. His upper 
teeth lacked fixity, so to speak ; and as they fell with 
every word, he had the appearance of gnashing them 
continually at the invisible author. There was a hurry- 
ing to and fro of round, fresh-faced stewards in short 
jackets, a pushing and pulling of trunks and boxes, the 
sudden appearance and disappearance of nondescript 
individuals in slouched hats and water-proofs, the stir- 
ring about of heavy feet upon the deck above, the rat- 
tling of chains, the 'yo-ing' of hoarse voices, as the 
sailors pulled at the ropes, and, with it all, that sicken- 
ing odor of oil, of dead dinners — of everything, so in- 
describable, so never-to-be-forgotten. Somewhat sad- 
dened, and considerably enlightened upon the subject 
of ocean steamers, we sought our state-room. It 



ABOARD THE STEAMER. 15 

boasted two berths (the upper conveniently gained by 
mounting the stationary wash-stand), and a velvet-cov- 
ered sofa beneath the large, square window, which last 
we learned, months later, when reduced to a port-hole 
for light and air, to appreciate. A rack and half a 
dozen hooks against the wall completed its furniture. 

The time of departure arrived. We said the two 
little words that bring so many tears and heartaches, 
and ran up on the deck with the rain in our faces, and 
something that was not all rain in our eyes, for one 
last look at our friends ; but they were hidden from 
sight. There comes to me a dim recollection of at- 
tempting to mount to an inaccessible place: of 
clinging to wet ropes with the intention of seeing the 
last of the land; of thinking it, after a time, a senseless 
proceeding, and of resigning ourselves finally to our 
berths and inevitable circumstances. Eight bells and 
the dinner bell; some one darkened our doorway. 

" What's this ? Don't give it up so. D'ye hear the 
dinner bell ? " 

" Are — are you the captain of this ship ? " gasped 
Mrs. K., feebly, from the sofa. 

" To be sure, madam. Don't give it up so." 

Mrs. K. groaned. There came to me one last gleam 
of hope. What if it were possible to brave it out ! In 
a moment my feet were on the floor, but whether my 
name were McGregor, or not, I could not tell. I made 
an abortive attempt after the pretty hood, prepared 
with such pleasant anticipations, and had a dim con- 
sciousness that somebody's hands tied it about my 
head. Then we started. We climbed heights, we de- 
scended depths indescribable, in that short walk to the 



16 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

saloon, and there was a queer feeling of having a wind- 
mill, instead of a head, upon my shoulders. A number 
of sympathizing faces were nodding in the most re- 
markable manner, as we reached the door, and the 
tables performed antic evolutions. 

" Take me back ! " and the berth and the little round 
stewardess received me. There followed a night of 
misery. One can form no idea, save from experience, 
of the horrors of the first night upon an ocean steamer. 
There are the whir, and buzz, and jar, and rattle, and 
bang of the screw and engine; the pitching and rolling 
of the ship, with the sensation of standing upright for 
a moment, and then of being made to rest comfortably 
upon the top of your head; the sense of undergoing in- 
ternal somersaults, to say nothing of describing every 
known curve externally. You study physiology invol- 
untarily, and doubt if your heart, your lungs, or indeed 
any of your internal organs, are firmly attached, after 
all; if you shall not lose them at the next lurch of 
the ship. Your head is burning with fever, your hands 
and feet like ice, and you feel dimly, but wretchedly, 
that this is but the beginning of sorrows ; that there are 
a dozen more days to come. You are conscious of a 
vague wonder (as the night lengthens out intermina- 
bly) what eternity can be, since time is so long. The 
bells strike the half hours, tormenting you with calcula- 
tions which amount to nothing. Everything within 
the room, as well as without, swings, and rolls, and 
rattles. You are confident your bottles in the rack 
will go next, and don't much care if they do, though 
you lie and dread the crash. You are tormented 
with thirst, and the ice-water is in that same 



ABOARD THE STEAMER. 17 

rack, just beyond your reach. The candle in its silver 
case, hinged against the wall, swings back and forth 
with dizzy motion, throwing moving distorted shad- 
ows over everything, and making the night like a 
sickly day. You long for darkness, and, when at last 
the light grows dim, until only a red spark remains 
and the smoke that adds its mite to your misery, 
long for its return. At regular intervals you hear the 
tramp, tramp, overhead, of the relieving watch ; and, 
in the midst of fitful slumbers, the hoarse voices of 
the sailors, as the wind freshens and they hoist the 
sails, wake you from frightful dreams. At the first gray 
dawn of light come the swash of water and the tric- 
kling down of the stream against your window, with the 
sound of the holy-stones pushed back and forth upon 
the deck. And with the light — O, blessed light! — 
came to us a dawn of better things. 

There followed days when we lay contented upon the 
narrow sofa, or within the contracted berths, but when 
to lift our heads was woe. A kind of negative blessed- 
ness — absence from misery. We felt as if we had lost 
our heart, our conscience, and almost our immortal r 
soul, to quote Mark Tw r ain. There remained to us 
only those principles and prejudices most firmly 
rooted and grounded. Even our personal vanity left 
us at last, and nothing could be more forsaken and ap- 
propriate than the plain green gown with its one row of 
military buttons, attired in which, day after day, I idly 
watched 'the faces that passed our door. "That's like 
you Americans," said our handsome young Irish doc- 
tor, pointing to these same buttons. " You can't leave 
your country without taking the spread-eagle with you!" 
2 



18 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

Our officers, with this one exception, were English. 
Our captain, a living representative of the traditional 
English sailor. Not young, save in heart; simple, 
unaffected, and frank in manner, but with a natural 
dignity that prevented undue familiarity, he sang about 
the ship from morning till night, with a voice that 
could carry no air correctly, but with an enjoyment de- 
lightful to witness — always a song suggested by exist- 
ing circumstances, but with 

" Cheer, boys, cheer; my mother's sold her mangle," 

when everything else failed. He was forward among 
the men on the deck with an eye to the wind, down 
below bringing fruit and comfort to the sick in the 
steerage, dealing out apples and oranges to the chil- 
dren, with an encouraging word and the first line of a 
song for everybody. 

The life of the ship was an Englishman, with the 
fresh complexion almost invariably seen upon Eng- 
lishmen, and forty years upon a head that looked 
twenty-five. He was going home after a short tour 
through the United States, with his mind as full of 
prejudices as his memorandum-book was of notes. He 
chanced, oddly enough, to room with the genuine 
Yankee of the company — a long, lean, good-natured in- 
dividual from one of the eastern states, " close on ter 
Varmont," who had a way of rolling his eyes fearfully, 
especially when he glared at his food. He represented 
a mowing machine company, and we called him " the 
Mowing Machine Man." He accosted us one day, si- 
dling up to our door, with, " How d'ye do to-day ? " 

" Better, thank you," I replied from the sofa. 



ABOARD THE STEAMER. 19 

" That's real nice. Tell ye what, we'll be glad to see 
the ladies out. How's yer mar?" nodding towards 
the berth from which twinkled Mrs. K.'s eyes. I 
laughed, and explained that our relations were of affec- 
tion rather than consanguinity. His interest increased 
when he found we were travelling alone. He gave us 
his London address, evidently considering us in the light 
of Daniels about to enter the lions' den. "Ef ye have 
any trouble," said he, as he wrote down the street and 
number, " there's one Yankee'll "stand up for ye." He 
amused the Englishman by calling out, " Hullo. D'ye 
feel good this morning ? " " No," would be the reply, 
with a burst of laughter ; " I feel awful wicked ; think 
I'll go right out and kill somebody." 

There was a shout one morning, "A sail! Seethe 
stars and stripes ! " I had not raised my head for 
days, but staggered across the floor at that, and cling- 
ing to the frame, thrust my head out of the window. 
Yes, there was a ship close by, with the stars and 
stripes floating from the mast-head, I found, when the 
roll of the steamer carried my window to its level. 
" Seems good ter see the old rag ! " I looked up to find 
the Mowing Machine Man gazing upon it with eyes all 
afloat. " I'd been a thinking," said he, " all them fel- 
lers have got somebody waiting for 'em over there," — 
our passengers were mostly English, — "but there 
wasn't nobody a waiting for me. Tell ye what," — and 
he shook out the folds of a red and yellow handker- 
chief, — " it does my heart good ter see the old flag." 
There was a bond of sympathy between us from that 
moment. 

We had another and less agreeable specimen of 



20 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

this free people — a tall, tough western cattle dealer, 
who quarrelled if he could find an antagonist, swore 
occasionally, drank liquor, and chewed tobacco perpet- 
ually, wore his trousers tucked into his long boots, his 
hands tucked into his pockets, and, to crown these 
attributes, believed in Andrew Johnson! — a middle- 
aged man, with soft, curling brown hair above a 
face that could be cruelly cold and hard. His hair 
should have been wire ; his blue eyes were steel. But 
hard as was his face, it softened and smoothed itself a 
little at sight of the sick women. He paused beside 
us one day with a rough attempt to interest and 
amuse by displaying a knife case containing a dozen 
different articles. " This is ter take a stun out of a 
hoss's hufj and this, d'ye see, is a tooth-pick ; " putting 
it to immediate use by way of explanation. At the 
table he talked long and loud uppn the rinderpest, and 
other kindred and ajjpetizing topics. "I've been a 
butcher myself," he would say. "I've cut up hundreds 
o' critters. What part of an ox, now, d'ye think that 
was taken from?" pointing to the joint before him, 
and addressing a refined, delicate-faced old gentleman 
across the table, who only stared in silent horror. 

But even the " Cattle Man " was less marked in 
his peculiarities than the " Jersey Man," a melancholy- 
eyed, curly-wigged individual from the Jersey shore, 
who wore his slouched hat upon one side of his head, 
and looked as though he were doing the rakish lover 
in some fifth-rate theatre; who was "in the musical 
line myself; Smith and Jones's organs, you know; 
that's me ; " and who, being neither Smith nor Jones, we 
naturally concluded must be the organ. He recited 



ABOARD THE STEAMER, 21 

poetry in a loud tone at daybreak, and discussed politics 
for hours together, arguing in the most satisfactory 
manner with the principles, and standing most will- 
ingly upon the platform, of everybody. He assumed a 
patronizing air towards the Mowing Machine Man. 
" Well, you are a green Yankee," he would say ; " lucky 
for you that you fell in with me ; " to which the latter 
only chuckled, " That's so." He had much to tell of 
himself, of his grandmother, and of his friends generally, 
who came to see him off; "felt awfully, too," which we 
could hardly credit; rolled out snatches of sentimental 
songs, iterating and reiterating that his bark was on 
the sea, — and a most disagreeable one we found it; 
wished we had a piano on board, to which we mur- 
mured, " The Lord forbid ; " and hoped we should soon 
be well enough to join him in the " White Squall." He 
was constantly reminding us that w r e were a very 
happy family party, so " congenial," and evidently 
agreed with the Mowing Machine Man, who said, 
" They're the best set of fellows I ever see. They'll 
tell ye anything." 

We numbered a clergyman among us, of course. 
" Always a head wind when there's a parson aboard," 
say the sailors. So this poor dyspeptic little man 
bore the blame of our constant adverse winds. Noth- 
ing more bigoted, more fanatical than his religious be- 
lief could be imagined. You read the terrors of the 
Lord in his eye ; and yet he won respect, and some- 
thing more, by his consistency and zeal. Earnestness 
will tell. " The parson will have great influence over 
the Cattle Man," the captain said, Sabbath morning, 
as we were walking the deck. "The Cattle Man?" 



22 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

"Yes, the parson will get a good hold of him." Just 
then, as if to prove the old proverb true, that his 
satanic majesty is always in the immediate neighbor- 
hood when his character is under discussion, the Cat- 
tle Man and Jersey came up the companion-way. " If 
you please, captain," said the former, " we are a com- 
mittee to ask if the parson may preach to the steerage 
people to-night." " Certainly," was the reply ; " I will 
attend myself." They thanked him, and went below, 
leaving me utterly amazed. They were the last men 
upon the ship whom one would have selected as a 
committee upon spiritual things ! 

The church service for the cabin passengers was held 
in the saloon. A velvet cushion upon one end of the 
long table constituted the pulpit, before which the min- 
ister stood, holding fast to the rack on either side, and 
bracing himself against the captain's chair in the rear. 
Even then he made, involuntarily, more bows than any 
ritualist, and the scripture, " What went ye out for to 
see ? A reed shaken by the wind ? " would present itself. 
The sailors in their neat dress filed in and ranged 
themselves in one corner. The stewards gathered 
about the door, one, with face like an owl, most 
conspicuous. The passengers filled their usual seats, 
and a delegation from the steerage crept shyly into 
the unoccupied space — women with shawls over 
their heads and babies in their arms, shock-headed 
men and toddling children, but all with an evident at- 
tempt at appropriate dress and manner. Among them 
was one sweet young English face beneath an old 
crape bonnet. A pair of shapely hands, which the 
shabby black gloves could not disguise, held fast a lit- 



ABOARD THE STEAMER. 23 

tie child. Widowhood and want in the new world ; 
what was waiting her in the old? The captain read 
the service, and all the people responded. The 
women's eyes grew wet at the sound of the familiar 
words. The little English widow bent her face over 
the head of the child in her lap, and something glis- 
tened in its hair. Our sympathies grew wide, and we 
joined in the prayer for the queen, that she might have 
victory over her enemies, and even murmured a re- 
sponse to the petition for Albert Edward and the no- 
bility, dimly conscious that they needed prayers. The 
good captain added a petition for the president of the 
United States, to which the Mowing Machine Man and 
I said, "Amen." Then the minister, having poised 
himself carefully, read a discourse, sulphurous but sin- 
cere; the Mowing Machine Man thrusting his elbow 
into my side in a most startling manner at every par- 
ticularly blue point. We, were evidently in sympathy; 
but I could have dispensed with the expression of it. 
We closed with the doxology, standing upon our 
feet and swaying back and forth as though it had been 
a Shaker chant, led by an improvised choir and the 
Jersey Man. 

At night we descended into the depths of the steam- 
er to worship with the steerage passengers. It was 
like one of Rembrandt's pictures — the darkness, the 
wild, strangely-attired people, the weird light from the 
lanterns piercing the gloom, and bringing out group 
after group with fearful distinctness ; the pale, earnest 
face of the preacher, made almost unearthly by the glare 
of the yellow light — a face with its thin-drawn lips, its 
eyes like coals of fire such as the flames of martyrdom lit 



24 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

once, I imagine. Close beside him stood the Cattle 
Man, towering like Saul above the people, and with an 
air that plainly said, " Beware — I stand by the parson." 

" There is a land of pure delight," 

repeated the minister; and in a moment the words rolled 
out of the Cattle Man's mouth while he beckoned with 
his long arm for the people to rise. Throwing back 
his head, he sang with an unction undescribable, verse 
after verse, caught doubtless at some western camp- 
meeting, where he had tormented the saints. One after 
another took up the strain. Clear and strong came the 
tones from every dark corner, until, like one mighty 
voice, while the steamer rolled and the waves dashed 
against its sides, rose the words 

" Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood, 
Shall fright us from that shore." 

A great stillness fell upon the people as the minister 
gave out his text, and began his discourse. He had 
lacked freedom in the saloon, but here he forgot every- 
thing save the words given him; hard words they 
seemed to me, containing little of the love of God. I 
glanced at the Mowing Machine Man, who had made a 
seat of half a barrel under the stairs. He winked in a 
fearful manner, as though he would say, "Just see how 
he's a goin' on ! " But the people received it gladly. 
One after another of the sailors crept down the stairs 
and stood in the shadow. I watched them curiously. 
It may be that this stern, hard doctrine suited these 
stern, hard men. It made me shudder. 

But the record of all these days would have no end. 
How can I tell of the long, happy hours, when more 



ABOARD THE STEAMER. 25 

than strength, when perfect exhilaration, came to us ; 
when existence alone was a delight? To sit upon the low 
wheel-house, with wraps and ribbons and hair flying in 
the wind, while we sang, — 

" O, a life on the ocean wave ! " 

to admiring fishes ; to watch the long, lazy swell of the 
sea, or the spray breaking from the tops of the white 
caps into tiny rainbows ; to walk the rolling deck for 
hours with never a shadow of weariness ; to cling to the 
flag-staff when the stern of the ship rose in the air then 
dropped like a heavy stone into the sea, sending the 
sju'ay far over and above us ; to count the stars at night, 
watching the other gleaming phosphorescent stars that 
seemed to have fallen from heaven upon the long wake 
of the steamer, — all this was a delight unspeakable. 

One morning, when the land seemed a forgotten 
dream, we awoke to find green Erin close beside us. 
All the day before the sea-gulls had been ' hovering 
over us — beautiful creatures, gray above and white 
beneath, clouds with a silver lining. Tiny land birds, 
too, flew about us, resting wearily upon the rigging. 
The sea all at once became like glass. It seemed like 
the book of Revelation when the sun shone on it, — 
the sea of class mingled with fire. For a time the land 
was but a line of rock, with martello towers perched 
upon the points. On the right, Fastnet Rock rose out 
of the sea, crowned with a light-house ; then the gray 
barren shore of Cape Clear Island, and soon the sharp- 
pointed Stag Rocks. It is a treacherous coast. "I've 
been here many a night," said the captain, as he 
gave us his glass, "when I never expected to see 



26 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 



morning." And all the while he was speaking, the sea 
smiled and smiled, as though it could never be cruel. 

We drew nearer and nearer, until we could see 
the green fields bounded by stone walls, the white, 
winding roads, and little villages nestling among the 
hills. Towards noon the lovely harbor of Queens- 
town opened before us, surrounded and almost shut 
in by rocky islands. Through the glass we could 
see the city, with its feet in the bay. We were no 
longer alone. The horizon was dotted with sails. 
Sometimes a steamer crossed our wake, or a ship bore 
down upon us. We hoisted our signals. We dipped 
our flag. The sailors were busy painting the boats, 
and polishing the brass till it shone again. Now the 
tender steams out from Queenstown. The steerage 
passengers in unwonted finery, tall hats and unearthly 
bonnets, and one in a black silk gown, are running 
about forward, shaking hands, gathering up boxes 
and bundles, and pressing towards the side which the 
tender has reached. There are the shouting of orders, 
the throwing of a rope, and in a moment they are 
crowding the plank. One long cheer, echoed from 
the stern of our steamer, and they are off. 

All day we walked the deck ; even the sick crawled up 
at last to see the panorama. We still lingered when 
night fell, and we had turned away from the land to strike 
across the channel, and the picture rests with me now ; 
the purple sky with one long stretch of purple, hazy 
cloud, behind which the sun went down ; the long, low 
line of purple rock, our last glimpse of Ireland, and 
the shining, purple sea, with not a ripple upon its sur- 
face. 



FIRST DATS IN ENGLAND. 27 



CHAPTER II. 

FIRST DAYS IN ENGLAND. 

Up the harbor of Liverpool. — We all emerge as butterflies. — 
The Mersey tender. — Lot's wife. — " Any tobacco ? " — 
"Names, please." — St. George's Hall. — The fashionable 
promenade. — The coffee-room. — The military man who 
showed the purple tide of war in his face. — The railway 
carriage. — The young man with hair all aflame — English 
villages. — London. — No place for us. — The H. house. — 
The Babes in the Wood. — The party from the country. — 
We are taken in charge by the Good Man. — The Goldon 
Cross. — Solitary confinement. — Mrs. B.'s at last. 

E steamed up the harbor of Liverpool the next 
morning. New Brighton, with its green ter- 
races, its Chinese-pagoda villas, spread out upon one 
side, upon the other that solid wall of docks, the barri- 
cade that breaks the constant charges of the sea, with 
the masts of ships from every land for an abattis. The 
wraps and shapeless garments worn so long were laid 
aside; the pretty hood which had, like charity, covered 
so many sins of omission, hidden, itself, at last, the 
soft wool stiffened with the sea spray, the bright colors 
dimmed by smoke, and soot, and burning sun. We crept 
shyly upon the deck in our unaccustomed finery, as 
though called at a moment's notice to play another 




28 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

woman's part, half-learned. Not in us alone was the 
transformation. The girl in blue had blossomed into a 
a bell — a blue bell. The Cattle Man, his hands re- 
leased at last from the thraldom of his pockets, stalked 
about, funereal, in wrinkled black. A solferino neck-tie 
and tall hat of a pre-Adamite formation transmogrified 
our Mowing Machine friend. Nondescripts, that had 
lain about the deck wrapped in cocoons of rugs and 
shawls, emerged suddenly — butterflies! A painful 
courtesy seized us all. We had doffed the old familiar 
intercourse with our sea-gnrments. We gathered in 
knots, or stood apart singly, mindful at last of our 
dignity. 

The Mersey tender (a tender mercy to some) puffed 
out to meet us, and we descended the plank as those 
who turn away from home, leaving much of our 
thoughts, and something of our hearts, within the 
ship. It had been such a place of rest, of blessed 
idleness ! Only when our feet touched the wharf did 
we take up the burden of life again. There were the 
meeting of friends, in which we had no part; the mael- 
strom of horses, and carts, and struggling humanity, in 
which we found a most unwilling place; and then we 
followed fast in the footsteps of the Mowing Machine 
Man, who in his turn followed a hair-covered trunk 
upon the shoulders of a stout porter, our destination the 
custom-house shed close by. For a moment, as we 
were tossed hither and thither by the swaying mass, 
our desires followed our thoughts to a certain sheltered 
nook, upon a still, white deck, with the sunbeams 
slanting down through the furled sails above, with the 
lazy, lapping sea below, and only our own idle thoughts 
for company. Then we remembered Lot's wife. 



FIRST DATS IN ENGLAND. 29 

There was a little meek-faced custom-house officer 
in waiting, with a voice so out of proportion to his 
size, that he seemed to have hired it for the occasion, 
or come into it with his uniform by virtue of his office. 
" Any tobacco ? " he asked, severely, as we lifted the 
lid of our one trunk. We gave a virtuous and indig- 
nant negative. That was all. We might go our sev- 
eral ways now unmolested. One fervent expression of 
good wishes among our little company, while we make 
for a moment a network of clasped hands, and then we 
pass out of the great gates into our new world, and into 
the clutches of the waiting cabmen. By what stroke 
of good fortune we and our belongings were consigned 
to one and the same cab, in the confusion and terror 
of the moment, we did not know at the time. It was 
clearly through the intervention of a kind fellow-pas- 
senger, who, seeing that amazement enveloped us like 
a garment, kindly took us in charge. The dazed, as 
well as the lame and lazy, are cared for, it seems. By 
what stroke of o-ood fortune we ever reached our desti- 
nation, we knew still less. Our cab was a triumph of 
impossibilities, uncertainties, and discomfort. Our at- 
tenuated beast, like an animated hoop skirt, whose 
bones were only prevented, by the encasing skin, 
from flying off as we turned the corners, experienced 
hardly less difficulty in drawing his breath than in 
drawing his load. We descended at the entrance to 
the hotel as those who have escaped from imminent 
peril. We mounted the steps — two lone, but by no 
means lorn, damsels, two anxious, but by no means 
aimless females, knowing little of the world, less of 
travelling, and nothing whatever of foreign ways. Our 



30 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

very air, as we entered the door, was an apology for 
the intrusion. 

" Names, please," said the smiling man in waiting, 
opening what appeared to be the book of fate. We 
added ours to the long list of pilgrims and strangers 
who had sojourned here, dotting our i's and crossing 
our t's in the most elegant manner imaginable. If any 
one has a doubt as to our early advantages, let him ex- 
amine the record of the Washington Hotel, Liverpool. 
The heading, "Remarks," upon the page, puzzled us. 
Were they to be of a sacred or profane nature? Of an 
autobiographical character? Were they to refer to the 
dear land we had just left? Through some political 
throes she had just brought forth a ruler. Should we 
add to the IT. S. against our names, " As well as could 
be expected"? We hesitated, — and wrote nothing. 
Up the wide stairs, past the transparency of Washing- 
ton — in the bluest of blue coats, the yellowest of top 
boots, and an air of making the best of an unsought 
and rather ridiculous position — we followed the doily 
upon the head of the pretty chambermaid to our wide, 
comfortable room, with its formidable, high-curtained 
beds. The satchels and parcels innumerable were 
propped carefully into rectitude upon the dressing 
table, under the impression that the ship would give 
a lurch ; and then, gazing out through the great plate 
glass windows upon the busy square below, we endeav- 
ered to compose our perturbed minds and gather our 
scattered wits. 

It is not beautiful, this great city of Liverpool, creep- 
ing up from the sea. It has little to interest a stranger 
aside from its magnificent docks and warehouses. 



FIRST DATS IN ENGLAND. 31 

There are mammoth truck horses from Suffolk, with 
feet like cart wheels ; there is St. George's Hall, the 
pride of the people, standing in the busy square of the 
same name, with a statue of the saint himself — a ter- 
ror to all dragons — just before it. It is gray, many col- 
umned, wide stepped, vast in its proportions. Do you 
care for its measurement? Having seen that, you are 
ready to depart ; and, indeed, there is nothing to detain 
one here beyond a day of rest, a moment to regain 
composure after the tossing of the sea. There are some 
substantial dwellings, — for commerce has its kings, — 
and some fine shops, — for commerce also has its 
queens, — and one fine drive, of which we learned too 
late. The air of endurance, which pervades the whole 
city, as it does all cities in the old world, impresses one 
greatly, as though they were built for eternity, not 
time ; the founders having forgotten that here we are 
to have no continuing city. In the new world, man 
tears down and builds up. Every generation moulds 
and fashions its towns and cities after its own desires, 
or to suit its own means. Man is master. In the old 
world, one generation after another surges in and out 
of these grim, gray walls, leaving not so much as the 
mark the waves leave upon the rocks. Unchanged, 
unchanging, they stand age after age, time only soften- 
ing the hard outlines, deepening the shadows it has 
cast upon them, and so bringing them into a likeness 
of each other that they seem to have been the design 
of one mind, the work of one pair of hands, and hardly 
of mortal mind or hands at that. They seem to say to 
man, "We have stood here ages before you were born. 
We shall stand here ages after you are forgotten." 



32' AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

They must be filled with echoes, with ghosts, and 
haunting memories. 

Bold Street, a tolerably narrow and winding way, in 
which many are found to walk, — contrary to all prece- 
dent, — boasts the finest shops. Here the Lancashire 
witches, as the beauties of the county are called, walk, 
and talk, and buy gewgaws of an afternoon. It was 
something strange to us to see long silken skirts en- 
tirely destitute of crinoline, ruffle, or flounce, trailed 
here through mud and mire, or raised displaying 
low Congress gaiters, destitute of heels. For our- 
selves, if we had been the king of the Cannibal Islands, 
we could hardly have attracted more attention than 
we did in our plain, short travelling suits and high- 
heeled boots. It grew embarrassing, especially when 
our expression of unqualified benevolence drew alter 
us a train of beggars. They crossed the street to meet 
us. They emerged from every side street and alley, 
thrusting dirty hands into our faces, and repeating 
twice-told tales in our ears, until we were thankful 
when oblivion and the shadow of the hotel fell 
upon us. 

We dined in the coffee-room, — that comfortable and 
often delightfully cosy apartment fitted with little 
tables, and with its corner devoted to books, to papers 
and conversation, — that combination of dining, tea and 
reading-room unknown to an American hotel, — sacred 
to the sterner sex from all time, and only opened to us 
within a few years, — the gates being forced then, I 
imagine, by American women, who will not consent to 
hide their light under a bushel, or keep to some far- 
away corner, unseeing and unseen. English women, 



FIRST DAI'S IN ENGLAND. 33 

as a rule, take their meals in their own private parlors. 
Perhaps because English men generally desire the flow- 
ers intrusted to their fostering care to blush unseen. 
It may be better for the gardeners ; it may be better for 
the flowers — I cannot tell ; but we dined in the coffee- 
room, as Americans usually do. One of the clergymen, 
who attend at such places, received our order. It was 
not so very formidable an affair, after all, this going 
down by ourselves ; or would not have been, if the big- 
eyed waiter, who watched our every movement, would 
have left us, and the military man at the next table, 
who showed "the purple tide of war," or something 
else, in his face, and blew his nose like a trombone, 
ceased to stare. As it was, we aired our most elegant 
table manners. We turned in our elbows and turned 
out our toes, — so to speak, — and ate our mutton with a 
grace that destroyed all appetite. We tried to appear 
as though we had frequently dined in the presence of 
a whole battalion of soldiery, under the scrutiny of in- 
numerable waiters, — and failed, I am sure. " With 
verdure clad " was written upon every line of our 
faces. The occasion of this cross fire we do not know 
to this day. Was it unbounded admiration ? Was it 
spoons ? 

Having brushed off the spray of the sea, having 
balanced ourselves upon the solid earth, having seen 
St. George's Hall, there was nothing to detain us 
longer, and the next morning we were on our way to 
London. We had scrutinized our bill, — which might 
have been reckoned in pounds, ounces, and penny- 
weights, for aught we knew to the contrary, — and in- 
formed the big-eyed waiter that it was correct. We 
3 



34 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

had also offered him imploringly our largest piece of 
silver, which he condescended to accept; and having 
been presented with a ticket and a handful of silver 
and copper by the porter who accompanied us to the 
station across the way, in return for two or three gold 
pieces, we shook off the dust of Liverpool from our 
feet, turned our eyes from the splendors of St. George's 
Hall, and set our faces steadfastly towards our destina- 
tion. There was a kind of luxury, notwithstanding our 
prejudices, in this English railway carriage, with its 
cushions all about us, even beneath our elbows ; a rest- 
fulness unknown in past experience of travel, in the 
ability to turn our eyes away from the flying landscape 
without, to the peaceful quiet, never intruded upon, 
within. We did not miss the woman who will insist 
upon closing the window behind you, or opening it, as 
the case may be. Not one regret had we for the 
"B-o-s-t-o-n papers ! " nor for the last periodical or novel. 
The latest fashion gazette was not thrown into our lap 
only to be snatched away, as we became interest- 
ed in a plan for rejuvenating our wardrobe; nor were 
we assailed by venders of pop corn, apples, or gift 
packages of candy. Even the blind man, with his 
offering of execrable poetry, was unknown, and the 
conductor examined our tickets from outside the win- 
dow. Settling back among our cushions, while we 
mentally enumerated these blessings of omission, there 
came a thought of the perils incurred by solitary fe- 
males locked into these same comfortable carriages 
with madmen. If the danger had been so great for 
one solitary female, what must it be for two, we 
thought with horror. We gave a quick glance at our 



FIRST DATS IN ENGLAND. 35 

fellow-passenger, a young man with hair all aflame. 
Certainly his eyes did roll at that moment, but it was 
only in search of a newsboy; and when he exclaimed, 
like any American gentleman, "Hang the boy!" we 
became perfectly reassured. He proved a most agree- 
able travelling companion. We exchanged questions 
and opinions upon every subject of mutual interest, 
from the geological formation of the earth to the 
Alabama claims. I can hardly tell which astonished 
us most, his profound erudition or our own. Now, I 
have not the least idea as to whether Lord John Rus- 
sell sailed the Alabama, or the Alabama sailed of itself, 
spontaneously ; but, whichever way it was, I am con- 
vinced it was a most iniquitious proceeding, and so 
thought it safe to take high moral ground, and assure 
him that as a nation we could not allow it to go un- 
punished. You have no idea what an assistance it is, 
when one is somewhat ignorant and a good deal at 
a loss for arguments, to take high moral ground. 

When we were weary of discussion, when knowl- 
edge palled upon our taste, we pulled aside the little 
blue curtain, and gave ourselves up to gazing upon the 
picture from the window. I doubt if any part of Eng- 
land is looked upon with more curious eyes than that 
lying between Liverpool and London. It is to so many 
Americans the first glimpse of strange lands. Spread 
out in almost imperceptible furrows were the velvet 
turfed meadows, the undipped hedges, a mass of 
tangled greenness between. For miles and miles they 
stretched away, with seldom a road, never a solitary 
house. The banks on either side were tufted with 
broom and yellow with gorse; the hill-sides in the 



36 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

distance, white with chalk, or black with the heather 
that would blossom into purple beauty with the sum- 
mer. We rushed beneath arches festooned, as for a 
gala-day, with hanging vines. Tiny gardens bloomed 
beside the track at every station, and all along the 
walls, the arched bridges, and every bit of stone upon 
the wayside, was a mass of clinging, glistening ivy. 
Not the half-dead, straggling thing we tend and shield 
so carefully at home, with here and there a leaf put 
forth for very shame. These, bright, clear-cut, deep- 
tinted, crowded and overlapped each other, and ran 
riot over the land, transforming the dingy, mildewy 
cottages, bits of imperishable ugliness, into things of 
beauty, if not eternal joys. Not in the least picturesque 
or pleasing to the eye were these English villages ; 
straggling rows of dull red brick houses set amidst 
the fields — dirty city children upon a picnic — with a 
foot square garden before each door, cared for possibly, 
possibly neglected. A row of flower-pots upon the 
stone ledge of every little window, a row of chimney- 
pots upon the slate roof of every dwelling. Sometimes 
a narrow road twisted and writhed itself from one to 
another, edged by high brick walls, hidden beneath a 
weight of ivy; sometimes romantic lanes, shaded by 
old elms, and green beyond all telling. The towns 
were much the same, — outgrown villages. And the 
glimpse we caught, as we flew by, so far above the 
roofs often that we could almost peep down upon the 
hearths through the chimney tops, was by no means 
inviting. 

Dusk fell upon us with the smoke, and mist, and driz- 
zling rain of London, bringing no anxiety ; for was there 



FIRST DAI'S IN ENGLAND. 37 

not, through the though tfulness of friends, a place 
prepared for us ? Our pleasant acquaintance of the 
golden locks forsook his own boxes, and bundles, and 
innumerable belongings to look for our baggage, and 
saw us safely consigned to one of the dingy cabs in 
waiting. I trust the people of our own country repay 
to wanderers there something of the kindness which 
American women, travelling alone, receive at the hands 
of strangers abroad. It was neither the first nor the 
last courtesy proffered most respectfully, and received 
in the spirit in Which it was offered. There is a deal 
of nonsense in the touch-me-not air with which many 
go out to see the world, as there is a deal of folly in 
the opposite extreme. But these acquaintances of a 
day, the opportunity of coming face to face with the 
people in whose country you chance to be, of hearing 
and answering their strange questions in regard to 
our government, our manners and customs, as well as in 
displaying our own ignorance in regard to their insti- 
tutions, in giving information and assistance when it is 
in our power, and in gratefully receiving the same 
from others, — all this constitutes one of the greatest 
pleasures of journeying. 

Our peace of mind received a rude shock, when, 
after rattling over the pavings around the little park 
in Queen's Square, and pulling the bell at Mr. B.'s 
boarding-house, we found that we were indeed ex- 
pected, but indefinitely, and no place awaited us. We 
had forgotten to telegraph. It was May, the Lon- 
don season, and the hotels full. "X. told us you 
were coming," said the most lady-like landlady, lead- 
ing us into the drawing-room from the dank darkness 



38 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

of the street. There was a glow of red-hot coals in 
the grate, a suggestion of warmth and comfort in the 
bright colors and cosy appointments of the room — 
but no place for us. " I'm very sorry ; if you had tele- 
graphed — but we can take you by Monday certainly," 
she said. I counted my fingers. Two days. Ah! 
but we might perish in the streets before that. Every- 
thing began to grow dark and doleful in contemplation. 
Some one entered the room. The landlady turned to 
him : " O, here is the good man to whose care you were 
consigned by X." We gave a sigh of relief, as we 
greeted the Good Man, for all our courage, like the 
immortal Bob Acres's, had been oozing from our finger 
ends. And if we possess one gift above another, it 
is an ability to be taken care of. "Do you know 
X. ? " asked another gentleman, glancing up from his 
writing at the long, red-covered table. "We trav- 
elled with him," nodding towards his daughter, whose 
feet touched the fender, "through Italy, last winter." 
"Indeed—" 

" I'll just send out to a hotel near by," interrupted 
kind Mrs. B., " and see if you can be accommodated a 
day or two." How very bright the room became ! The 
world was not hollow, after all, nor our dolls stuffed 
with sawdust. Even the cabman's rattle at the 
knocker, and demand of an extra sixpence for waiting, 
could not disturb our serenity. The messenger re- 
turned. Yes ; we could be taken in (?) at the H. house ; 
and accepting Mrs. B.'s invitation to return and spend 
the evening, we mounted to our places in the little 
cab, as though it had been a triumphal car, and were 
whizzed around the corner at an alarming pace by the 
impatient cabman. 



FIRST DATS IN ENGLAND. 39 

I should be sorry to prejudice any one against the 
H. house — which I might perhaps say is not the H. 
house at all ; I hardly like to compare it to a whited 
sepulchre, though that simile did occur to my mind. 
Very fair in its exterior it was, with much plate glass, 
and ground glass, and gilding of letters, and shining 
of brass. It had been two dwelling-houses; it was 
now one select family hotel. But the two dwelling- 
houses had never been completely merged into one ; 
never married, but joined, like the Siamese twins. 
There was a confusing double stairway ; having as- 
cended the right one, you were morally certain to de- 
scend the wrong. There was a confusing double hall, 
with doors in every direction opening everywhere but 
upon the way you desired to go. We mounted to the 
top of the house, followed by two porters with our lug- 
gage, one chambermaid with the key, another to ask 
if we would dine, and two more bearing large tin cans 
of hot water. We grew confused, and gasped, "We 
— we believe we don't care for any more at present, 
thank you," and so dismissed them all. The furniture 
was so out of proportion to the room that I think it 
must have been introduced in an infant state, and grown 
to its present proportions there. The one window 
was so high that we were obliged to jump up to look 
out over the mirror upon the bureau — a gymnastic feat 
we did not care to repeat. The bed curtains were 
gray; indeed there was a gray chill through the whole 
place. We sat down to hold a council of war. We 
resolved ourselves into a committee of ways and 
means, our feet upon the cans of hot water. " Pleas- 
ant," I said, as a leading remark, my heart beginning 



40 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

to warm under the influence of the hot water. " Pleas- 
ant?" repeated Mrs. K.; "it's enough to make one 
homesick. We can't stay here." " But," I interposed, 
"suppose we leave here, and can't get in anywhere 
else ? " A vision of the Babes in the Wood rose be- 
fore me. There was a rap at the door; the fourth 
chambermaid, to announce dinner. We finished our 
consultation hurriedly, and descended to the parlor, 
where we were to dine. It was a small room, already 
occupied by a large table and a party from the country; 
an old lady to play propriety, a middle-aged person of 
severe countenance to act it, and a pair of incipient 
and insipid lovers. He was a spectacled prig in a 
white necktie, a clergyman, I suppose, though he looked 
amazingly like a waiter, and she a little round combi- 
nation of dimples and giggle. 

He. " Have you been out for a walk this morn- 
ing ? " 

She. "No; te-he-he-he." 

He. " You ought to, you know." 

She. " Te-he-he-he — yes." 

He. " You should always exercise before dinner." 

She. "Te-he-he-he." 

Here the words gave out entirely, and, it being re- 
markably droll, all joined in the chorus. " We must 
go somewhere else, if possible," we explained to Mrs. 
B., when, a little later, we found our way to her door. 
" At least we shall be better contented if we make the 
attempt." The Good Man offered his protection; we 
found a cab, and proceeded to explore the city, asking 
admittance in vain at one hotel after another, until at 
last the Golden Cross upon the Strand, more charitable 



FIRST DATS IN ENGLAND. 41 

than its neighbor, or less full, opened its doors, and the 
good landlady, of unbounded proportions, made us both 
welcome and comfortable. Quite palatial did our neat 
bed-room, draped in white, appear. We were the proud 
possessors, also, of a parlor, with a round mirror over 
the mantel, a round table in the centre, a sofa, of which 
Pharaoh's heart is no comparison as regards hardness, 
a row of stiff, proper arm-chairs, and any amount of or- 
namentation in the way of works of art upon the walls, 
and shining snuffers and candlesticks upon the mantel. 
Our bargain completed, there remained nothing to be 
done but to remove our baggage from the other house, 
which I am sure we could never have attempted 
alone. Think of walking in and addressing the land- 
lady, while the chambermaids and waiters peeped from 
behind the doors, with, "We don't like your house, 
madam. Your rooms are tucked up, your beds uninvit- 
ing, your chambermaids frowsy, your waiters stupid, 
and your little parlor an abomination." How could 
we have done it? The Good Man volunteered. " But 
do you not mind?" "Not in the least." Is it not 
wonderful ? How can we believe in the equality of 
the sexes ? In less than an hour we were temporarily 
settled in our new quarters, our rescued trunks con- 
signed to the little bed-room, our heart-felt gratitude 
in the possession of the Good Man. 

We took our meals now in our own parlor, trying 
the solitary confinement system of the English during 
our two days' stay. It seemed a month. Not a sign of 
life was there, save the landlady's pleasant face behind 
the bar and the waiter who answered our bell, with the 
exception of a pair of mammoth shoes before the next 



42 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

door, mornings, and the bearded face of a man that star- 
tled us, once, upon the stairs. And yet the house was 
full. It was a relief when our two days of banishment 
were over, when in Mrs. B.'s pretty drawing-room, and 
around her table, we could again meet friends, and real- 
ize that we were still in the world. 



EXCURSIONS FROM LONDON. 43 



CHAPTER III. 

EXCURSIONS FBOM LONDON". 

Strange ways. — " The bears that went over to Charlestown." — 
The delights of a runaway without its dangers. — Flower 
show at the Crystal Palace. — Whit-Monday at Hampton 
Court. — A queen baby. — " But the carpets ? " — Poor Nell 
Gwynne. — Vandyck faces. — Royal beds. — Lunch at the 
King's Arms. — O Music, how many murders have been com- 
mitted in thy name ! — Queen Victoria's home at Windsor. — 
A new " house that Jack built." — The Round Tower. — Stoke 
Pogis. — Frogmore. — The Knights of the Garter. — The 
queen's gallery. — The queen's plate. — The royal mews. — 
The wicker baby-wagons. — The state equipages. 

E bought an umbrella, — everyone buys an 
umbrella who goes to London, — and this, in 
its alpaca glory, became our constant companion. We 
purchased a guide-book to complete our equipments ; 
but so disreputable, so yellow-covered, was its outward 
appearance, so suggestive of everything but facts, that 
we consigned it to oblivion, and put ourselves under 
the guidance of our Boston friends, the Good Man and 
his family. 

For two busy weeks we rattled over the flat pavings 
of the city in the low, one-horse cabs. We climbed 
towers, we descended into crypts, we examined tomb- 




44 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

stones, we gazed upon mummies. Everything was 
new, strange, and wonderful, even to the little boys in 
the street, who, as well as the omnibus drivers, were 
decked out in tall silk hats — a piece of absurdity in 
one case, and extravagance in the other, to our minds. 
The one-horse carriages rolled about upon two wheels ; 
the occupants, like cross children, facing in every direc- 
tion but the one they were going, and everybody, con- 
trary to all our preconceived ideas of law and order, 
turned to the left, instead of to the right, — to say 
nothing of other strange and perplexing ways that 
came under our observation. We had come abroad 
upon the same errand as the bears who " went over to 
Charlestown to see what they could see," and so stared 
into every window, into every passing face, as though 
we were seeking the lost. We became known as the 
women who wanted a cab ; our appearance within the 
iron posts that guard the entrance to Queen's Square 
from Southampton Row being the signal for a per- 
fect Babel of unintelligible shouts and gesticulations 
down the long line of waiting vehicles, with the char- 
ging down upon us of the first half dozen in a highly 
dangerous manner. Wisdom is sometimes the growth 
of days ; and we soon learned to dart out in an un- 
expected moment, utterly deaf and blind to everything 
and everybody but the first man and the first- horse, 
and thus to go off in triumph. 

But if our exit was triumphant, what was our entry 
to the square, when weary, faint with seeing, hearing, 
and trying in vain to fix everything seen and heard in 
our minds, we returned in a hansom ! English ladies 
do not much affect this mode of conveyance, but Amer- 



EXCURSIONS FROM LONDON. 45 

ican women abroad have, or take, a wide margin in 
matters of mere conventionality, — and so ride in han- 
som cabs at will. They are grown-up baby perambu- 
lators upon two wheels ; the driver sitting up behind, 
where the handle would be, and drawing the reins of 
interminable length over the top of the vehicle. Pic- 
ture it in your mind, and then wonder, as I did, what 
power of attraction keeps the horse upon the ground ; 
what prevents his flying into the air when the driver 
settles down into his seat. A pair of low, folding 
doors take the place of a lap robe ; you dash through 
the street at an alarming rate without any visible 
guide, experiencing all the delights of a runaway 
without any of its dangers. 

FLOWER SHOW AT THE CRYSTAL PALACE. 

A ride by rail of half an hour takes one to Syden- 
ham. It is a charming walk from the station through 
the tastefully arranged grounds, with their shrubberies, 
roseries, and fountains, along the pebble-strewn paths, 
crowded this clay with visitors. The palace itself is so 
like its familiar pictures as to need no description. 
Much of the grandeur of its vast proportions within is 
Most by its divisions and subdivisions. There are 
courts representing the various nations of the earth, — 
America, as usual, felicitously and truthfully shown up 
by a pair of scantily attired savages under a palm 
tree; there are the courts of the Alhambra, of Nin- 
eveh, and of Pompeii ; there are fountains, and statues, 
and bazaars innumerable, where one may purchase al- 
most anything as a souvenir; there are cafes where 
one may refresh the body, and an immense concert 



46 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

hall where one may delight the soul, — and how much 
more I cannot tell, for the crowd was almost beyond 
belief and a much more interesting study than Egyp- 
tian remains, or even the exquisite mass of perfumed 
bloom, that made the air like summer, and the whole 
place a garden. They were of the English middle 
class, the upper middle class, bordering upon the no- 
bility, — these rotund, fine-looking gentlemen in white 
vests and irreproachable broadcloth, these stout, red- 
faced, richly-attired ladies, with their soft-eyed, angular 
daughters following in their train, or clinging to their 
arms. We listened for an hour to the queen's own 
band in scarlet and gold, and then came back to town, 
meeting train after train filled to overflowing with ex- 
pensively arrayed humanity in white kids, going out 
for the evening. 

A DAY AT HAMPTON COURT. 

It was Whit-Monday, — the workingman's holiday, 

— a day of sun and shower; but we took our turn 
upon the outside of the private omnibus chartered for 
the occasion, unmindful of the drops ; our propelling 
power, six gray horses. By virtue of this private es- 
tablishment we were free to pass through Hyde Park, 

— that breathing-place of aristocracy, where no public 
vehicle, no servant without livery, is tolerated. It was 
early, and only the countless hoof- prints upon Rotten 
Row suggested the crowd of wealth and fashion that 
would throng here later in the day. One solitary 
equestrian there was ; perched upon a guarded saddle, 
held in her place by some concealed band, serenely 
content, rode a queen baby in long, white robes. A 



EXCURSIONS FROM LONDON. 47 

groom led the little pony. She looked at us in grave 
wonder as we dashed by, — born to the purple ! I can- 
not begin to describe to you the rising up of London 
for this day of pleasure ; the decking of itself out in 
holiday attire ; the garnishing of itself with paper flow- 
ers ; the smooth, hard roads leading into the country, 
all alive; the drinking, noisy crowd about the door 
of every pot-house along the way. It was a delightful 
drive of a dozen or more miles, through the most 
charming suburbs imaginable, — past lawns, and gar- 
dens, and green old trees shading miniature parka ; 
past " detached " villas that had blossomed into win- 
dows; indeed, the plate glass upon houses of most 
modest pretension was almost reckless extravagance 
in our eyes, forgetting, as we did, the slight duty to 
be paid here upon what is, with us, an expensive 
luxury. No wonder the English are a healthful 
people, — the sun shines upon them. I like their man- 
ner of house-building, of home-making. They set up 
first a great bay-window, with a room behind it, which 
is of secondary importance, with wide steps leading up 
to a door at the side. They fill this window with the 
rarest, rosiest, most rollicksome flowers. Then, if there 
remain time, and space, and means, other rooms are 
added, the bay-windows increasing in direct propor- 
tion ; while shades, drawn shades, are a thing un- 
known. " But the carpets ? " They are so foolish as 
to value health above carpets. 

It was high noon when we rolled up the wide ave- 
nue of Bushey Park, with its double border of gigantic 
chestnuts and limes, through Richmond Park, with its 
vast sweep of greensward flecked with the sunbeams, 



48 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

dripping like the rain through the royal oaks, past 
Richmond terrace, with its fine residences looking out 
upon the Thames, the translucent stream, pure and beau- 
tiful here, before going down to the city to be denied — 
like many a life. We dismounted at the gates to the 
palace, in the rambling old village that clings to its 
skirts, and joined the crowd passing through its wide 
portals. 

It is an old palace thrown aside, given over to poor 
relatives, by royalty, — as'we throw aside an old gown ; 
a vast pile of dingy, red brick that has straggled over 
acres of Hampton parish, and is kept within bounds by 
a high wall of the same ugly material. It has pushed 
itself up into towers and turrets, with pinnacles and 
spires rising from its battlemented walls. It has thrust 
itself out into oriel and queer little latticed windows that 
peep into the gardens and overhang the three quad- 
rangles, and is with its vast gardens and park, with its 
wide canal and avenues of green old trees, the most 
delightfully ugly, old place imaginable. Here kings 
and queens have lived and loved, suffered and died, 
from Cardinal Wolsey's time down to the days of 
Queen Anne. It is now one of England's show places ; 
one portion of its vast extent, with the grounds, being 
thrown open to the public, the remainder given to de- 
cayed nobility, or wandering, homeless representatives 
of royalty, — a kind of royal almshouse, in fact. A 
curtained window, the nutter of a white hand, were to 
us the only signs of inhabitation. 

Through thirty or more narrow, dark, bare rooms, — 
bare but for the pictures that crowded the walls, — we 
wandered. There were two or three halls of stately 



EXCURSIONS FROM LONDON. 49 

proportions finely decorated with frescoes by Verrio, 
and one or two royal stairways, up and down which 
slippered feet have passed, silken skirts trailed, and 
heavy hearts been carried, in days gone by. The 
pictures are mostly portraits of brave men and lovely 
women, of kings and queens and royal favorites, — 
poor Nell Gwynne among them, who began life by 
selling oranges in a theatre, and ended it by selling vir- 
tue in a palace. The Vandyck faces are wonderfully 
beautiful. They gaze upon you through a mist, a gold- 
en haze, — like that which hangs over the hills in the 
Indian summer, — from out deep, spiritual eyes ; a 
dream of fair women they are. 

There were one or two royal beds, where uneasy 
have lain the heads that wore a crown, and half a 
dozen chairs worked in tapestry by royal fingers, — 
whether preserved for their questionable beauty, or be- 
cause of the rarity of royal industry, I do not know. 
We wandered through the shrubberies, paid a penny to 
see the largest grape vine in the world, — and washed 
we had given it to the heathen, so like its less distin- 
guished sisters did the vine appear, — and at last lunched 
at the King's Arms, a queer little inn just outside the 
gates, edging our way with some difficulty through the 
noisy, guzzling crowd around the door — the crowd that, 
having reached the acme of the day's felicity, was fast 
degenerating into a quarrel. In the long, bare room 
at the head of the narrow, winding stairs, we found 
comparative quiet. The tables were covered with joints 
of beef, with loaves of bread, pitchers of ale, and the 
ubiquitous cheese. A red-faced young man in tight 
new clothes — like a strait-jacket — occupied one end 
4 



50 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

of our table with his blushing sweetheart. A band 
of wandering harpers harped upon their harps to the 
crowd of wrangling men and blowsy women in the 
open court below ; strangely out of tune were the harps, 
out of time the measure, according well with the spirit 
of the hour. A loud-voiced girl decked out in tawdry 
finery, with face like solid brass, sang "Annie Laurie" 
in hard, metallic tones, — O Music, how many murders 
have been committed in thy name ! — then passed a 
cup for pennies, with many a jest and rude, bold laugh. 
We were glad when the day was done, — glad when 
we had turned away from it all. 

queen Victoria's home at Windsor. 

The castle itself is a huge, battlemented structure of 
gray stone, — a fortress as well as a palace, — with a 
home park of five hundred acres, the private grounds 
of Mrs. Guelph, and, beyond that, a grand park of eigh- 
teen hundred acres. But do not imagine that she lives 
here with only her children and servants about her, — 
this kindly German widow, whose throne was once in 
the hearts of her people. Royalty is a complicated 
affair, — a wheel within a wheel, — and reminds us of 
nothing so much as " the house that Jack built." 

This is the Castle of Windsor. 

This is the queen that lives in the Castle of Windsor. 

These are the ladies that 'tend on the queen that 
lives in the Castle of Windsor. 

These are the pages that bow to the ladies that 'tend 
on the queen that lives in the Castle of Windsor. 

These are the lackeys that wait on the pages that 
bow to the ladies that 'tend on the queen that lives in 
the Castle of Windsor. 



EXCURSIONS FROM LONDON. 51 

These are the soldiers, tried and sworn, that guard 
the crown from the unicorn, that stand by the lackeys 
that wait on the pages that bow to the ladies that 'tend 
on the queen that lives in the Castle of Windsor. 

These are the "military knights" forlorn, founded by 
Edward before you were born, that outrank the sol- 
diers, tried and sworn, that guard the crown from the 
unicorn, that stand by the lackeys that wait on the 
pages that bow to the ladies that 'tend on the queen 
that lives in the Castle of Windsor. 

These are the knights that the garter have worn, 
with armorial banners tattered and torn, that look 
down on the military knights forlorn, founded by Ed- 
ward before you were born, that outrank the soldiers, 
tried and sworn, that guard the crown from the unicorn, 
that stand by the lackeys that wait on the pages that 
bow to the ladies that 'tend on the queen that lives in 
the Castle of Windsor. 

This is the dean, all shaven and shorn, with the 
canons and clerks that doze in the mom, that install 
the knights that the garter have worn, with armorial 
banners tattered and torn, that look down on the mili- 
tary knights forlorn, founded by Edward before you 
were born, that outrank the soldiers, tried and sworn, 
that guard the crown from the unicorn, that stand by 
the lackeys that wait on the pages that bow to the la- 
dies that 'tend on the queen that lives in the Castle of 
Windsor. 

And so on. The train within the castle walls that 
follows the queen is endless. 

We passed through the great, grand, state apart- 
ments, refurnished at the time of the marriage of the 



52 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

Prince of Wales, for the use of the Danish family. 
We mounted to the battlements of the Round Tower 
by the hundred steps, the grim cannon gazing xlown 
upon us from the top. Half a dozen visitors were al- 
ready there, gathered as closely as possible about the 
angular guide, listening to his geography lesson, and 
looking off upon the wonderful panorama of park, and 
wood, and winding river. Away to the right rose the 
spire of Stoke Pogis Church, where the curfew still 
" tolls the knell of parting day." To the left, in the 
great park below, lay Frogmore, where sleeps Prince 
Albert the Good. Eton College, too, peeped out from 
among the trees, its gardens touching the Thames, and 
in the distance, — beyond the sleeping villages tucked 
in among the trees, — the shadowy blue hills held 
up the sky. 

St. George's Chapel is in the quadrangle below. It is 
the chapel of the Knights of the Garter. And now, when 
you read of the chapels, or churches, or cathedrals in the 
old world, — and they are all in a sense alike, — pray 
don't imagine a New England meeting-house with a 
double row of stiff pews and a choir in the gallery sing- 
ing " Antioeh" ! The body of the chapel was a great, 
bare space, with tablets and elaborate monuments 
against the walls. Opening from this were alcoves, — 
also called chapels, — each one containing the tombs and 
monuments of some family. As many of the inscriptions 
are dated centuries back, you can imagine they are 
often quaintly expressed. One old knight, who died 
in Catholic times, desired an open Breviary to remain 
always in the niche before his tomb, that passers 
might read to their comfort, and say for him an orison. 



EXCURSIONS FROM LONDON. 53 

Of course this would never do in the days when the 
chapel fell into Protestant hands. A Bible was sub- 
stituted, chained into its place; but the old inscription, 
cut deep in the stone, still remains, beginning " Who 
leyde thys book here ? " with a startling appropriate- 
ness of which the author never dreamed. Over an- 
other of these chapels is rudely cut an ox, an N", and a 
bow, — the owner having, in an antic manner, hardly 
befitting the place, thus written his name — Oxenbow. 
You enter the choir, where the installations take 
place, by steps, passing under the organ. In the 
chancel is a fine memorial window to Prince Albert. 
On either side are the stalls or seats for the knights, 
with the armorial banner of each hanging over his place. 
Projecting over the chancel, upon one side, is what ap- 
pears to be a bay-window. This is the queen's gallery, 
a little room with blue silk hangings, — for blue is the 
color worn by Knights of the Garter, — where she sits 
during the service. Through these curtains she looked 
down upon the marriage of the Prince of Wales. Think 
of being thus put away from everybody, as though one 
were plague-stricken. A private station awaits her 
when she steps from the train at the castle gates. A 
private room is attached to the green-houses, to the 
riding-school in the park, and even to the private 
chapel. A private photograph-room, for the taking of 
the royal pictures, adjoins her apartments. It must be 
a fine thing to be a queen, — and so tiresome! Even 
the gold spoon in one's mouth could not offset the wea- 
riness of it all, and of gold spoons she has an unbound- 
ed supply ; from ten to fifteen millions of dollars 
worth of gold pfate for her majesty's table being guard- 
ed within the castle ! Think of it, little women who 



54 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

set up house-keeping with half a dozen silver tea- 
spoons and a salt-spoon ! 

We waited before a great gate until the striking of 
some forgotten hour, to visit the royal mews. You 
may walk through all these stables in slippers and in 
your daintiest gown, without fear. A stiff young man 
in black — a cross between an undertaker and an in- 
cipient clergyman in manner — acted as guide. Other 
parties, led by other stiff young men, followed or 
crossed our path. There were stalls and stalls, upon 
either side, in room after room, — for one could not 
think of calling them stables, — filled by sleek bays for 
carriage or saddle. And the ponies! — the dear little 
shaggy browns, with sweeping tails, and wonderful 
eyes peeping out from beneath moppy manes, the milk- 
white, tiny steeds, with hair like softest silk, — they 
won our hearts. Curled up on the back of one, fast 
asleep, lay a Maltese kitten ; the "royal mew" some 
one called it. The carriages were all plain and dark, 
for the ordinary use of the court. In one corner a prim 
row of little yellow, wicker, baby-wagons attracted our 
attention, like those used by the poorest mother in the 
land. In these the royal babies have taken their first 
airings. 

The state equipages we saw another day at Bucking- 
ham Palace, — the cream-colored horses, the carriages 
and harnesses all crimson and gold. There they stand, 
weeks and months together, waiting for an occasion. 
The effect upon a fine day, under favoring auspices, — 
the sun shining, the bands playing, the crowd of gazers, 
the prancing horses, the gilded chariots, — must almost 
equal the triumphal entry of a first class circus into a 
New England town ! 



SIGHT-SEEING IN LONDON 55 



CHAPTER IV. 

SIGHT-SEEING IN LONDON. 

The Tower. — The tall Yankee of inquiring mind. — Our guide 
in gorgeous array. — War trophies. — Knights in armor. — 
A professional joke. — The crown jewels. — The house where 
the little princes were smothered. — The " Traitor's Gate." — 
The Houses of Parliament. — What a throne is like. — The 
"woolsack." — The Peeping Gallery for ladies. — Westminster 
Hall and the law courts. — The three drowsy old women. — 
The Great Panjandrum himself. — Johnson and the pump. — 
St. Paul's. — Wellington's funeral car. — The Whispering 
Gallery. — The bell. 

THE TOWER. 

IT is not a tower at all, as we reckon towers, you 
must know, but a walled town upon the banks of 
the Thames, in the very heart of London. Hundreds 
of years ago, when what is now this great city was only 
moor and marsh, the Romans built here — a castle, 
perhaps. Only a bit of crumbling wall, of mouldering 
pavement, remains to tell the story. When the Nor- 
mans came in to possess the land, William the Con- 
queror erected upon this spot a square fortress, with 
towers rising from its four corners. Every succeeding 
monarch added a castle, a tower, a moat, to strengthen 
its strength and extend its limits, until, in time, it cov- 
ered twelve acres of land, as it does to this day. Here 



56 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

the kings and queens of England lived in comfortless 
state, until the time of Queen Elizabeth, haA'ing need 
to be hedged about with something more than royalty 
to insure safety. Times have changed; swords have 
been beaten into ploughshares ; and where the moat 
once encircled the tower wall, flowers blossom now. 
The dungeons that for centuries held prisoners of state 
confine only criminals to-day; and the strongholds 
that guarded the person of England's sovereign keep 
in safety now, the jewels and the crown. There are 
round towers, and square towers, and, for anything I 
know, three-cornered towers, each with its own history 
of horrors. There are windows from which people 
were thrown, bridges over which they were dragged, 
and dark holes in which they were incarcerated. 

To appreciate all this, you should see it — as we did 
one chilly May morning. We huddled about the stove 
in the waiting-room upon the site of the old royal 
menagerie, our companions a round man, with a limp 
gingham cravat and shabby coat, a little old woman 
in a poke bonnet, and half a dozen or more school- 
boys from the country. A tall Yankee of inquiring 
mind joined us as we sallied from the door, led by a 
guide gorgeous in ruff and buckles, cotton velvet and 
gilt lace, and with all these glories surmounted by a 
black hat, that swelled out at the top in a wonderful 
manner. Down the narrow street within the gates, 
over the slippery cobble-stones, under considerable 
mental excitement, and our alpaca umbrella, we fol- 
lowed our guide to an archway, before which he paused, 
and struck an attitude. The long Yankee darted for- 
ward. " Stand back, my friends, stand back," said the 




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"A dozen umbrellas were tipped up; the ram fell fast upon a dozen 
upturned, expectant faces." Page 57. 



SIGHT-SEEING IN LONDON. 57 

guide. " You will please form a circle." Immediately 
a dozen umbrellas surrounded him. He pointed to a 
narrow window over our heads ; li dozen umbrellas 
were tipped up; the rain fell fast upon a dozen up- 
turned, expectant faces. "In that room, Sir " 

(I could not catch the name) " spent the night before 
his execution, in solemn meditation and prayer." 
There was a circular groan of sympathy and approval 
from a dozen lips, the re-cant of a dozen dripping 
umbrellas, and we pattered on to the next point of 
interest, following our leader through pools of blood, 
figuratively speaking, — literally, through pools of wa- 
ter, — our eyes distended, our cheeks pale with horror. 
Ah, what treasures of credulity we must have been to 
the guides in those days ! Time brought unbelief and 
hardness of heart. 

We mounted stairs narrow and dark ; we descended 
stairs dark and narrow ; we entered chambers gloomy 
and grim. The half I could not tell — of the rooms 
filled with war trophies — scalps in the belt of the na- 
tion — from the Spanish Armada down to the Sepoy 
rebellion ; the long hall, with its double row of lumber- 
ing old warriors encased in steel, as though they had 
stepped into a steel tower and walked off, tower and 
all, some fine morning ; the armory, with its stacked 
arms for thirty thousand men. " We may have occa- 
sion to use them," said the guide, facetiously, making 
some reference to the speech of Mr. Sumner, just then 
acting the part of a stick to stir up the British lion. 
The Yankee chuckled complacently, and we, too, re- 
fused to quake. There was a room filled with instru- 
ments of torture, diabolical inventions, recalling the 



58 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

days of the Inquisition. The Yankee expressed a de- 
sire to " see how some o' them things worked." Open- 
ing from this was an unlighted apartment, with walls 
of stone, a dungeon indeed, in which we were made to 
believe that Sir Walter Raleigh spent twelve years of 
his life. No shadow of doubt would have fallen upon 
our unquestioning minds, had we been told that he 
amused himself during this time by standing upon his 
head. " Walk in, walk in," said the smiling guide, as 
we peered into its darkness. We obeyed. "Now," 
said he, " that you may appreciate his situation, I will 
step out and close the door." The little old woman 
screamed; the Yankee made one stride to the opening; 
the guide laughed. It was only a professional joke ; 
there was no door. We saw the bare prison-room, 
with its rough fireplace, the slits between the stones 
of the wall to admit light and air, and the initials of 
Lady Jane Grey, with a host more of forgotten names, 
upon the walls. Just outside, within the quadrangle, 
where the grass grew green beneath the summer rain, 
she was beheaded, — poor little innocent, — who had 
no desire to be a queen ! In another tower close by, 
guarded by iron bars, were the royal jewels and the 
crown, for which all this blood was shed — pretty bau- 
bles of gold and precious stones, but hardly worth so 
many lives. 

You remember the story of the princes smothered 
in the Tower by command of their cruel uncle ? There 
was the narrow passage in the wall where the murder- 
ers came at night ; the worn step by which they entered 
the great, bare room where the little victims slept; 
the winding stairs down which the bodies were 



SIGHT-SEEING IN LONDON. 59 

thrown. Beneath the great stone at the foot they were 
secretly buried. Then the stairway w r as walled up, 
lest the stones should cry out ; and no one knew 
the story of the burial until long, long afterwards 
— only a few years since — when the walled-up 
stairway was discovered, the stones at the foot dis- 
placed, and a heap of dust, of little crumbling bones, 
revealed it. A rosy-faced, motherly woman, the wife 
of a soldier quartered in the barracks here, answered 
the rap of the guide upon the nail-studded door open- 
ing from one of the courts, and told us the old story. 
" The bed of the princes stood just there," she said, 
pointing to one corner, where, by a curious coincidence, 
a little bed was standing now. She answered the ques- 
tion in our eyes with, "My boys sleep there." But do 
you not fear that the murderers will come back some 
night by this same winding way, and smother them ? " 
How she laughed ! And, indeed, what had ghosts to do 
with such a cheery body ! 

Down through the " Traitors' Gate," with its spiked 
portcullis, we could see the steps leading to the water. 
Through this gate prisoners were brought from trial 
at Westminster. It is said that the Princess Elizabeth 
was dragged up here when she refused to come of her 
own will, knowing too well that they who entered here 
left hope behind. A little later, with music and the 
waving of banners, and amid the shouts of the people, 
she rode out of the great gates into the city, the Queen of 
England. 

THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT. 

Though they have stood barely thirty years, already 
the soft gray limestone begins to crumble away, — the 



60 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

elements, with a sense of the fitness of things, striving 
to act the part of time, and bring them into a likeness 
of the adjoining abbey. There is an exquisite beauty 
in the thousand gilded points and pinnacles that pierce 
the fog, or shine softly through the mist that veils the 
city. Ethereal, shadowy, unreal they are, like the spires 
of a celestial city, or the far away towers and turrets 
we see sometimes at sunset in' the western sky. 

Here, you know, are the chambers of the Houses of 
Lords and Commons, with the attendant lobbies, libra- 
ries, committee-rooms, &c, and a withdra wing-room for 
the use of the queen when she is graciously pleased to 
open Parliament in person. The speaker of the House of 
Commons, as well as some other officials, reside here — a 
novel idea to us, who could hardly imagine the speaker 
of our House of Representatives taking up his abode 
in the Capitol ! Parliament was not in session, and we 
walked through the various rooms at will, even to the 
robing-room of the noble lords, where the peg upon 
which Lord Stanley hangs his hat was pointed out ; 
and very like other pegs it was. At one end of the 
chamber of the House of Lords is the throne. It is a 
simple affair enough — ■ a gilded arm-chair on a little 
platform reached by two or three steps, and with crim- 
son hangings. Extending down on either side are the 
crimson-cushioned seats without desks. In the centre 
is a large square ottoman, — the woolsack, — which 
might, with equal appropriateness, be called almost 
anything else. Above, a narrow gallery offers a loun- 
ging-place to the sons and friends of the peers ; and 
at one end, above the throne, is a high loft, a kind of 
uplifted amen corner, for strangers, with a space where 



SIGHTSEEING IN LONDON. 61 

women may sit and look down through a screen of lat- 
tice-work upon the proceedings below. It seems a rem- 
nant of Eastern customs, strangely out of place in this 
Western world, and akin to the shrouding of ourselves 
in veils, like our Oriental sisters. Or can it be that the 
noble lords are more keenly sensitive to the distracting 
influence of bright eyes than other men ? 

WESTMINSTER HALL AND THE LAW COURTS. 

Adjoining the Houses of Parliament is this vast old 
hall. For almost five hundred years has it stood, its 
curiously carved roof unsupported by column or pillar. 
Here royal banquets, as well as Parliaments, have been 
held, and more than one court of justice. Here was 
the great trial of Warren Hastings. It was empty 
now of everything but echoes and the long line of 
statuary on either side, except the lawyers in their 
long, black gowns, who hastened up and down its 
length, or darted in and out the three baize doors upon 
one side, opening into the Courts of Chancery, Common 
Pleas, and the Exchequer. Our national curiosity was 
aroused, and we mounted the steps to the second, 
which had won our sympathies from its democratic 
name. 

There were high, straight-backed pews of familiar 
appearance, rising one above the other, into the last of 
which we climbed, a certain Sunday solemnity stealing 
over us, a certain awkward consciousness that we were 
the observed of all observers, since we were the only 
spectators — a delusion of our vanity, however. In the 
high gallery before us, in complacent comfort, sat three 
fat, drowsy old women (?) in white, curling wigs, and 



62 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

voluminous gowns, asking all manner of distracting 
questions, and requiring to be told over and over again, 
— after the manner of drowsy old women, — to the ut- 
ter confusion of a poor witness in the front pew, who 
clung to the rail and swayed about hopelessly, while 
he tried to tell his story, as if by this rotary motion he 
could churn his ideas into form. Not only did he lose 
the thread of his discourse, — he became hopelessly en- 
tangled in it. Scratch, scratch, scratch, went the pens 
all around him. Every word, as it fell from his lips, 
was pounced upon by the begowned, bewigged, be- 
wildering judges, was twisted and turned by the law- 
yers, was tossed back and forth throughout the court- 
room, until there arose a question in our minds, as to 
who was telling the story. All the while the lawyers 
were glaring upon him as though he was perjuring 
himself with every word — as who would not be, under 
the circumstances ? And such lawyers ! They dotted 
the pews all around us. The long, black gowns were not 
so bad ; they hid a deal of awkwardness, I doubt not. 
But the wigs ! the queer little curly things, perched 
upon every head, and worn with such a perverse de- 
light in misfits ! the small men being invariably hid- 
den beneath the big wigs, and the large men strutting 
about like the great Panjandrum himself with the 
little round button at the top ! The appearance of one, 
whose head, through some uncommon development, 
rose to a ridge-pole behind, was surprising, to say the 
least. It was not alone that his wig was too small, that 
a fringe of straight, black hair fell below its entire 
white circumference ; it was not alone that it was parted 
upon the wrong side, or that, being mansard in form, 



SIGHT-SEEING IN LONDON. 63 

and his head hip-roofed, it could never, by any process, 
have been shaped thereto ; but I doubt if the wearing 
of it upside down, added to all these little drawbacks, 
could conduce to the beauty or dignity of any man. 
Unmindful of this reversed order of nature, its happy 
possessor skipped about the court-room, nodding to his 
brethren with a blithesome air, to the imminent peril 
of his top-knot, which sustained about the same rela- 
tion to his head as the sword to that of Damocles. He 
speered down upon the poor witness. He pretended 
to make notes of dreadful import with a screaming 
quill, and, in fact, comported himself with an airy 
unconsciousness delightful to see. 

In regard to the proceedings of the court, I only 
know that the point under discussion concerned one 
Johnson, and a pump ; and Mr. Pickwick's judge sat 
upon the bench. Whether he was originally round, 
red-faced, with gooseberry eyes, I do not remember; 
but all these pleasing characteristics he possessed at 
this present time, as well as a pudgy forefinger, with 
which to point his remarks. 

"You say," he repeated, with a solemnity of which 
my pen is incapable, and impressing every word upon 
the poor man in the front pew with this same forefin- 
ger, " that — Bunsen — went — to — the — pump ? " 

"Johnson, my lord," the witness ventured to cor- 
rect him, in a low tone. 

"It makes no difference," responded the judge, irate, 
"whether it is Bunsen or Jillson. The question is, 
Did — Jillson — go — to — the — pump ? " 

Whom the gods destroy they first deprive of their 
five senses. Four, at least, of the poor man's had de- 



64 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

parted some time since. The fifth followed. "John- 
son went, my lord," he replied, doggedly. Having 
found one point upon which his mind Was clear, he 
clung to it with the tenacity of despair. 

" Johnson ! who's Johnson ? " gasped the bewildered 
judge, over whose face a net of perplexed lines spread 
itself upon the introduction of this new character. In 
the confusion of denials and explanations that followed, 
we descended from our perch, and stole away ; nor are 
we at all sure, to this day, as to whether Johnson did 
or did not really go to the pump. 

st. Paul's. 

Imagine our surprise, one day, when admiring a 
pretty ribbon upon a friend, to be told that it came 
from St. Paul's Churchyard. Hardly the place for rib- 
bons, one would think ; but the narrow street which 
encircles the cathedral in the form of a bow and its 
string goes by this name, and contains, besides the 
bookstores and publishing houses, some fine " silk 
mercers'" establishments. 

The gray surface of the grand edifice is streaked 
with black, as though time had beaten it with stripes, 
and a pall of smoke and dust covers the statues in the 
court before it. Consecrated ground this is, indeed. 
From the earliest times of the Christian religion, 
through all the bigotry and fanaticism of the ages that 
followed, down to the present time, the word of God 
has been proclaimed here — in weakness often, in bit- 
terness many times, that belied the spirit of its mes- 
sage ; by a priesthood more corrupt than the people ; 
by noble men, beyond the age in which they lived, and 



SIGHT-SEEING IN LONDON 65 

whom the flames of martyrdom could not appall. Un- 
der Diocletian the first church was destroyed. It was 
rebuilt, and destroyed again by the Saxons. Twice 
has it been levelled to the ground by fire. But neither 
sword nor flame could subdue it, and firm as a rock it 
stands to-day, as it has stood for nearly two hundred 
years, and as it seems likely to stand for ages to come. 
The sacred stillness that invests the place was rudely 
broken, the morning of our visit, by the blows from the 
hammers of the workmen, resounding through the dome 
like a discharge of artillery. A great stage, and seats 
in the form of an amphitheatre, were being erected in 
the nave for a children's festival, which prevented our 
doing more than glance down its length. We read 
some of the inscriptions upon the monuments, that one, 
so often quoted, of Sir Christopher Wren, among them 
— " Do you seek his monument ? Look around you ; " 
glanced into the choir, with its Gothic stalls, where the 
service is performed, and then descended into the crypt, 
beneath all this, that labyrinth of damp darkness 
where so many lie entombed. Here is the funeral car 
of Wellington, with candles burning around it, cast 
from the conquering cannon, which thundered victo- 
ry to a nation, but sorrow and death to many a home. 
Shrouded Avith velvet it is, as are the horses, in imi- 
tation of those which bore him to his rest. All 
around were marble effigies, blackened, broken, as they 
survived the burning of the late cathedral, at the time 
of the great fire. Tombstones formed the pavement. 
" Whose can this be ? " I said, trying to follow with the 
point of my umbrella the half-worn inscription beneath 
my feet. It was that of Sir Joshua Reynolds. Strange 
4 



66 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

enough it seemed to us, coming from a country so 
new as to have been by no means prolific in great 
men, to find them here lying about under our feet. 

Having explored the crypt, we prepared to mount 
the endless winding stairs, whose final termination is 
the ball under the cross that surmounts the whole. 
Our ambition aimed only at the bell beneath the 
ball. We paid an occasional sixpence for the priv- 
ilege of peeping into the library, — a most tidy and 
put-to-rights room, with a floor of wood patchwork, 
— '■ and for the right to look down upon the geo- 
metrical staircase which winds around and clings to 
the wall upon one side, but is without any visible sup- 
port upon the other. The " whispering gallery " was 
reached after a time. It is the encircling cornice with- 
in the dome, surrounded by a railing, and forming a 
narrow gallery. " I will remain here," said the guide, 
" while you pass around until you are exactly opposite ; 
wait there until I whisper." Had we possessed the 
spirit of Casabianca, we should at this moment be sit- 
ting upon that narrow bench against the wall, with our 
feet upon the gas-pipes. We waited and listened, and 
listened and waited ; but the sound of the blows from 
the hammers below reverberated like thunder around 
us. We could not have heard the crack of doom. Be- 
coming conscious, after a time, that our guide had dis- 
appeared, we came out and continued our ascent. Mrs. 
K.'s curiosity, if not satisfied, was at least quenched, 
and she refused to go farther. My aspirations still 
pointed upward. There was another sixpence, another 
dizzy mount of dark, twisting stairs, with strength, 
ambition, and even curiosity gradually left behind, and 



SIGHT-SEEING IN LONDON. 67 

with only one blind instinct remaining — to go on. 
There was a long, clingy passage, through which ghost- 
ly forms were flitting; there were more stairs, with 
twists and turns, forgotten now with other torments; 
there was the mounting of half a dozen rickety wood- 
en steps at last, for no object but to descend shakily 
upon the other side, and then we found ourselves in a 
little dark corner, peering over a dingy rail, with a 
great, dusky object filling all the space below. And 
that was the bell! "Well, and what of it?" I don't 
know ; but we saw it ! 



68 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 



CHAPTER V. 

AWAY TO PARIS. 

The wedding party. — The canals. — New Haven. — Around the 
tea-table. — Separating the sheep from the goats. — " Will it 
be a rough passage?" — Gymnastic feats of the little steamer. 
— O, what were officers to us? — "Who ever invented ear- 
rings ! " — Dieppe. — Fish-wives. — Train for Paris. — Fellow- 
passengers. — Rouen. — Babel. — Deliverance. 

T was the last week in May, and by no means the 
" merry, merry month of May " had we found it. 
Not only was the sky weighed down with clouds, but 
they dripped upon the earth continually, the sun show- 
ing his ghastly, white, half-drowned face for a moment 
only to be swept from sight again by the cloud waves. 
A friend was going to Paris. Would we shake the 
drops from our garments, close our umbrellas, and go 
with him ? We not only would, we did. We gath- 
ered a lunch, packed our trunk, said our adieus, and 
drove down to the station in the usual pouring rain, 
the tearful accompaniment to all our movements. But 
one party besides our own awaited the train upon the 
platform — a young man with the insignia of bliss in 
the gloves of startling whiteness upon his hands, and a 
middle-aged woman of seraphic expression of counte- 
nance, clad in robes of spotless white, her feet encased 



A WAT TO PARIS. 69 

in capacious white slippers. In this airy costume, one 
hand grasping a huge bouquet devoid of color, the other 
the arm of her companion, she paced back and forth, to 
the great amusement of the laughing porters, casting 
upon us less fortunate ones, who shivered meekly in 
our wraps, glances of triumphant pity indescribable. 

" Weddin' party, zur," explained the guard, touching 
his cap to our friend. "Jus' come down in fly." They 
looked to us a good deal more as if they were just go- 
ing up in a " fly." The train shrieked into the station, 
and we were soon rushing over the road to New Ha- 
ven, from which, in an evil moment, we had planned 
to cross the Channel. There was little new or strange in 
the picture seen from our window. The cottages were 
now of a dull, clay color, instead of the dingy red we 
had observed before, as though they had been erected in 
sudden need, without waiting for the burning of the 
bricks. There were brick-yards all along the way, an- 
swering a vexed question in my mind as to where all 
the bricks came from which were used so entirely in 
town and village here, in the absence of the wood so 
plentiful with us. The canals added much to the 
beauty of the landscape, winding through the meadows 
as if they were going to no particular place, and were 
in no haste to reach their destination. They turned 
aside for a clump of willows or a mound of daisy- 
crowned earth ; they went quite out of their way to 
peep into the back doors of a village, and, in fact, strolled 
along in a lazy, serpentine manner that would have 
crazed the proprietor of a Yankee canal boat. 

It was five o'clock when we reached New Haven, 
having dropped our fellow-passengers along the way, 



70 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

the blissful couple among them. Through some error 
in calculation we had taken an earlier train than we 
need have, and found hours of doleful leisure awaiting 
us in this sleepy little town, lying upon an arm of the 
sea. Its outer appearance was not inviting. Here 
were the first and last houses of wood we saw in 
England, — high, ugly things, that might have been 
built of old boats or drift wood, with an economy that 
precluded all thought of grace in architecture. The 
train, in a gracious spirit of accommodation, instead of 
plunging into the sea, as it might have done, paused 
before the door of a hotel upon the wharf. There, in a 
little parlor, we improvised a home for a time. Our 
friend went off to explore the town. We took posses- 
sion of the faded red arm-chairs by the wide windows. 
Down below, beyond the wet platform, rose the well- 
colored meerschaum of the little French steamer, whose 
long-boats hung just above the edge of the wharf. 
Through the closed window stole the breath of the salt 
sea, that, only a hancl-breadth here, widened out below 
into boundlessness, bringing visions of the ocean and a 
thrill of remembered delight. The rain had ceased. 
The breeze rolled the clouds into snow-balls, pure white 
against the blue of the sky. Over the narrow stream 
came the twitter of birds, hidden in the hawthorn 
hedge all abloom. Everything smiled, and beamed, 
and glistened without, though far out to sea the white 
caps crowned the dancing waves. When night fell, 
and the lights glimmered all through the town, we 
drew the heavy curtains, lighted the candles in the shin- 
ing candlesticks, whose light cast a delusive glow over 
the dingy dustiness of the room, bringing out cheer- 



AWAY TO PARIS. 71 

fally the little round tea-table in the centre, with its 
bright silver and steaming urn, over which we lingered 
a long hour, measuring and weighing our comfort, tell- 
ing tales, seeing visions, and dreaming dreams of 
home. 

The clock struck nine as we crossed the plank to 
the Alexandra, trying in vain to find in its toy appoint- 
ments some likeness to our ocean steamer of delightful 
memory. The train whizzed in from London, brineinff 
our fellow-voyagers. The sheej) were separated from 
the goats by the officer at the foot of the plank, who 
asked each one descending, " First or second cabin ? " 
— sending one to the right, the other to the left. The 
wind swept in from the sea raw and cold. The foot- 
square deck was cheerless and wet. Even a diagonal 
promenade proved short and unsatisfactory, and in de- 
spair we descended the slippery, perpendicular stairs 
between boxes and bales, and down still another flight, 
to the cabin. A narrow, cushioned seat clung to its four 
sides, divided into lengths for berths. " Will it be a 
rough night ? " we carelessly asked the young stew- 
ardess. " O, no ! " was the stereotyped reply, though 
all the while the wicked waves were dancing beneath 
the white caps just outside. We divested ourselves of 
hats, and wraps, and useless ornaments, reserving only 
that of a meek and quiet spirit, w T hich, under a name- 
less fear, grew every moment meeker and more quiet. 
We undid the interminable buttons of our American 
boots, and prepared for a comfortable rest, with an ig- 
norance that at the time approximated bliss. There 
was leisure for the working out of elaborate schemes. 
Something possessed the tide. Whether it was high 



72 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

or low, narrow or wide, I do not know ; bnt there at 
the wharf we were to await the working of its own 
will, regardless of time. Accordingly we selected our 
places with a deliberation that bore no proportion to 
the time we were to fill them, advising with the stew- 
ardess, who had settled herself comfortably to sleep. 
We tried our heads to England and our feet to the foe, 
and then reversed the order, finally compromising by 
taking a position across the Channel. But the loading 
of the steamer overhead, with the chattering of our fel- 
low-passengers below, — two English girls, a pretty 
brunette and her sister, — banished sleep. At three 
o'clock our voyage began — the succession of quivering 
leaps, plunges, and somersaults which miraculously 
landed us upon the French coast. I can think of no 
words to describe it. The first night upon the ocean 
was paradise and the perfection of peace in comparison. 
To this day the thought of the swashing water, beat- 
en white against the port-hole before my eyes, is 
sickening. A calm — to me, of utter prostration — 
fell upon us long after the day dawned, only to be 
broken by the stewardess, when sleep had brought par- 
tial forgetfulness, with, "It's nine o'clock; we're at 
Dieppe, and the officers want to come in here." We 
tried to raise our heads. Officers ! What officers ? 
Had we crossed the Styx? Were they of light 
or darkness ? We sank back. O, what were officers 
to us! 

"But you must get up ! " — and she began an awk- 
ward attempt at the buttons of those' horrible boots. 
That recalled to life. American boots are of this world, 
and we made a feeble attempt to don some of its van- 



A WAT TO PARIS. 73 

ities. O, how senseless did the cuffs appear that went 
on upside down ! — the collar which was fastened under 
one ear! — the ribbons that were consigned to our 
pockets! Making blind stabs at our ears, "Good 
heavens!" we ejaculated, "who ever invented ear- 
rings ? Relics of barbarism ! " We made hasty thrusts 
at the hair-pins, standing out from our heads in every 
direction like enraged porcupine quills ; being pulled, 
and twisted, and scolded by the stewardess all the while ; 
hearing the thump, thump, upon our door as one pair 
of knuckles after another awoke the echoes, as one 
strange voice after another shouted, "Why don't 
those ladies come out ? " O the trembling fingers that 
refused to hold the pins ! — the trembling feet that 
staggered up the ladder-like stairs as we were thrust 
out of the cabin — out of the cruel little steamer to 
take refuge in one of the waiting cabs ! O the blessed- 
ness of our thick veils and charitable wraps ! 

I recall, as though it were a dream, the narrow, 
roughly-paved street of Dieppe ; a latticed window 
filled with flowers, and a dark-eyed maiden peeping 
through the leaves; the fish-wives in short petticoats 
and with high white caps, clattering over the stones in 
their wooden sabots, wheeling barrows of fish to the 
market near the station, where they bartered, and bar- 
gained, and gossiped. Evidently it is a woman's right 
in Normandy to work — to grow as withered, and hard, 
and old before the time as she chooses, or as she has 
need ; for to put away year after year, as do these poor 
women, every grace and charm of womanhood, cannot 
be of choice. 

At the long table in the refreshment-room of the sta- 



74 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

tion we drank the tasteless tea, and ate a slice from the 
roll four feet in length. The English-speaking girl who 
attended*us found a place — rough enough, to be sure — 
where in the few moments of waiting we could complete 
our hasty toilets. Beside us at the table, our fellow- 
voyagers, were two professors from a Connecticut col- 
lege of familiar name, whom we had met in London. 
They joined us in the comfortable railway carriage, and 
added not a little to the pleasant chat that shortened 
the long day and the weary journey to Paris. Our 
number — for the compartment held eight — was com- 
pleted by a young American gentleman, and a French- 
man of evil countenance, who drank wine and made 
love to his pretty Lizette in an unblushing manner, 
strange, and by no means pleasing, to us, demonstrating 
the annoyance, if nothing worse, to which one is often 
subjected in these compartment cars. It needed but one 
glance from the window to convince us that we were no 
longer in England. To be sure, the sky is blue, the 
grass green, in all lands ; but in place of the level 
sweep of meadow through which we had passed across 
the Channel, the land swelled here into hills on every 
side. Long rows of stiff poplars divided the fields, 
or stretched away in straight avenues as far as the 
eye could reach. The English remember the beauty 
of a curved line ; the French, with a painful rectitude, 
describe only right angles. Scarlet poppies blushed 
among the purple, yellow, and white wild flowers along 
the way. The plastered cottages with their high, 
thatched roofs, the tortuous River Seine with its green 
islands, as we neared Paris, the neat little stations along 
the way — like gingerbread houses ■ — made for us a new 



AWAT TO PARIS. 75 

and charming panorama. Hanging over a gate at one 
of these stations was an old man, white-haired, blind ; 
his guide, an old woman, who waited, with a kind of 
wondering awe stealing over her withered face, while 
he played some simple air upon a little pipe — thus ask- 
ing alms. So simple was the air, the very shadow of 
a melody, that the scene might have been amusing, had 
it not been so pitiful. 

At noon we lunched in the comfortless waiting-room 
at Rouen, while the professors made a hasty visit to 
the cathedral during our stay of half an hour. We still 
suffered from the tossing of the sea, and cathedrals pos- 
sessed no charms in our eyes. It was almost night 
when we reached Paris, and joined the hurrying crowd 
descending from the train. It was a descent into Pan- 
demonium. There was a confusion of unintelligible 
sounds in our ears like the roll of a watchman's rattle, 
bringing no suggestion of meaning. The calmness of 
despair fell upon our crushed spirits, with a sense of 
powerlessness such as we never experienced before or 
since. A dim recollection of school-days — of Ollen- 
dorff — rose above the chaos in our minds. "Has the 
physician of the shoemaker the canary of the carpen- 
ter?" we repeated mechanically; and with that our 
minds became a blank. 

Deliverance awaited us ; and when, just outside the 
closed gates, first in the expectant crowd, we espied 
the face of a friend, peace enveloped us like a garment. 
Our troubles were over. 



76 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD, 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE PARIS OF 1869. 

The devil. — Cathedrals and churches. — The Louvre. — Mod- 
ern French art. — The Beauvais clock, with its droll little 
puppets. — Virtue in a red gown. — The Luxembourg Palace. 
— The yawning statue of Marshal Ney. — Gay life by gas- 
light. — The Imperial Circus. — The Opera. — How the 
emperor and empress rode through the streets after the 
riots. — The beautiful Spanish woman whose face was her 
fortune. — Napoleon's tomb. 

IT may be the City of Destruction, the very gate- 
way to depths unknown ; but with its fair, white 
dwellings, its fair, white streets, that gleamed almost 
like gold beneath a summer sun, it seemed much more 
a City Celestial. It may be, as some affirm, that the 
devil here walks abroad at midday ; but we saw neither 
the print of his hoofs upon the asphaltum, nor the 
shadow of his horns upon the cream-like Caen stone. 
We walked, and rode, and dwelt a time within its 
limits ; and but for a certain reckless gayety that gave 
to the Sabbath an air of Vanity Fair, but for the 
mallet of the workman that disturbed our Sunday 
worship, we should never have known that we were 
not in the most Christian of all Christian cities. It is 
by no means imperative to do in Rome as the Ro- 



THE PARIS OF 1869. 77 

mans do, and one need not in Paris drink absinthe or 
visit the Jardin Mabille. 

Our first expedition was to the banker's and to the 
shops, and having replenished our purse and ward- 
robe, we were prepared to besiege the city. There was 
a day or two of rest in the gilded chairs, cushioned 
with blue satin, of our pretty salon, whence we peeped 
down upon the street below between the yellow 
satin curtains that draped its wide French window; 
or rolled our eyes meditatively to the delicately tinted 
ceiling, with its rose-colored clouds skimmed by tiny, 
impossible birds ; or made abortive attempts to pen- 
etrate the secrets of the buhl cabinets, and to guess 
at the time from the pretty clocks of disordered or- 
ganism; or admired ourselves in the mirrors which 
gazed at each other from morning till night, for our 
apartments in the little Hotel Friedland we found 
most charming. 

You will hardly care for a description of the dozen, 
more or less, churches, old, new, and restored, with 
-which we began and ended our sight-seeing in Paris, 
where we looked upon sculptured saints without num- 
ber, and studied ecclesiastical architecture to more 
than our hearts' content. There was St. Germain 
L'Auxerrois, the wicked old bell of which tolled the 
signal for the massacre of St. Bartholomew. We 
stood with the bonnes and babies under the trees of 
the square before it, gazing up at the belfry with most 
severe countenances, — and learned, afterwards, that 
the bell had been long since removed! There was 
the Madeleine of more recent date, built in the form of 
a Greek temple, and interesting just now for having 



78 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

been the church of Father Hyacinthe, to which we 
could for a time find no entrance. We shook the iron 
gate; we inquired in excellent English of a French 
shopkeeper, and found at last an open gateway, a 
little unlocked door, beyond which we spent a time 
of search and inquiry in darkness, and among wood, 
and shavings, and broken chairs, and holy dust-pans, 
before passing around and entering the great bronze 
doors. There were the Pantheon and St. Sulpice, 
grand and beautiful, erected piously from the proceeds 
of lotteries. There was St. Etienne du Mont, and 
within one of its chapels the gilded tomb of the patron 
saint of Paris — St. Genevieve. Who she was, or 
what she did to gain this rather unenviable position, I 
failed to learn. Her name seems to have outlived her 
deeds. Whether she was beautiful and beloved, and 
put away earthly vanities for a holy life, or old and 
ugly, and bore her lot with a patience that won saint- 
ship, I do not know. I can only tell that tapers burn 
always upon her tomb, and if you buy one it will burn 
a prayer for you. So we were told. There is one old 
church, St. Germain des Pres, most beautifully colored 
within. Its pictures seem to have melted upon the 
walls. But admired above all is the Sainte Chapelle, 
in the Palais de Justice, a chapel fitted up by the fa- 
natical St. Louis, when this palace of justice, which 
holds now the courts of law, was a royal residence. 
Of course all its brightness was dimmed long ago. Its 
glories became dust, like its founder. But it has re- 
cently been restored, and is a marvel of gilt, well- 
blended colors, and stained glass. A graceful spire 
surmounts it, but the old, cone-cnpped towers, rising 



THE PARIS OF 1S69. 79 

from another part of the same building, possessed far 
greater interest in our eyes ; for here was the Concier- 
gerie, where were confined Marie Antoinette and so 
many more victims of the reign of terror. 

On the "isle of the city," in the Seine, where, under 
the Roman rule, a few mud huts constituted Paris, 
stands the church of Notre Dame, which was three hun- 
dred years in building. With its spire and two square 
towers, it may be seen from almost any part of the 
city. I wish you might look upon the relics and the 
vestments which the priests wear upon occasions of 
ceremony, hidden within this church, and displayed 
upon the payment of an extra fee. I did not wonder 
that the Sisters of Charity, who went into the little 
room with us, gazed aghast upon the gold and silver, 
and precious stones. 

Every one visits the galleries of the Louvre, of 
course. A little, worn shoe, belonging once to Marie 
Antoinette, and the old gray coat of the first emperor, 
were to us the most interesting objects among the 
relics. From out the sea of pictures rise Murillo's 
Madonna, the lovely face with a soul behind it, shining 
through, and the burial of the heroine of Chateau- 
briand. Do you know it? The fair form, the sweeping 
hair of Attila, and the dark lover with despair in his 
face? As for the Rubens gallery,; — his fat, red, un- 
draped women here among the clouds, surrounded by 
puffy little cherubs, had for us no charms. Rubens in 
Antwerp was a revelation. We wandered through room 
after room, lighted from above, crowded with paintings. 
To live for a time among them would be a delight; 
to glance at them for a moment was tantalization. All 



80 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

around were the easels of the artists who come here 
to sketch — sharp-featured, heavy-browed men, with 
unkempt hair and flowing beards, and in shabby coats, 
stood before them, pallet and brushes in hand; and 
women by the score, — some of them young and pleas- 
ing, with duennas patiently waiting near by ; but more 
often they were neither young nor beautiful, and with 
an evident renunciation of pomps and vanities. We 
glanced at their copies curiously. Sometimes they 
seemed the original in miniature, and sometimes, — ah 
well, we all fail. 

We looked in upon the annual exhibition of pictures 
at the Palais de l'Industrie one day, and were particu- 
larly impressed with the nudite of the modern school 
of French art. Pink-tinted flesh may be very beautiful, 
but there must be something higher ! We saw there, 
too, another day, the clock on exhibition for a time be- 
fore being consigned to its destined place at Beauvais. 
It was even more wonderful than the one so famous 
at Strasbourg. This was of the size of an ordinary 
church organ, and of similar shape; a mass of gilt 
and chocolate-colored wood ; a mass of dials, great and 
small — of time tables, and, indeed, of tables for com- 
puting everything earthly and heavenly, with dials to 
show the time in fifty different places, and everything 
else that could, by any possible connection with time, 
be supposed to belong to a clock. Upon the top, 
Christ, seated in an arm-chair, was represented as 
judging the world, his feet upon the clouds ; on either 
side kneeling female figures adored him. Just below, 
a pair of scales bided their time. On every peak 
stood little images, while fifty puppets peeped out of 



THE PARIS OF 1869. 81 

fifty windows. Just below the image of the Saviour, 
a figure emerged through an open door at the striking 
of every quarter of an hour, — coming out with a slide 
and occasional jerk by no means graceful. We had an 
opportunity of observing all this in the three quarters 
of an hour of waiting. We viewed the clock upon 
every side, being especially interested in a picture at 
one point representing a rocky coast, a light-house, and 
a long stretch of waves upon which labored two ships 
attached in some way to the works within. They 
pitched back and forth without making any progress 
whatever, in a way very suggestive to us, who had 
lately suffered from a similar motion. A dozen priests 
seated themselves with us upon the bench before the 
clock as the hand approached the hour. They wore 
the long black robes and odd little skull-caj)s, that fit 
so like a plaster, and which are, I am sure, kept in 
place by some law of attraction unknown to us. One, 
of a different order, or higher grade, in a shorter robe 
and with very thin legs, encased in black stockings 
that added to their shadowy appearance, shuffled up 
to his place just in time to throw back his head and 
open his mouth as the clock struck, and the last judg- 
ment began. The cock upon the front gave a prelim- 
inary and weak flap of his wings, and emitted three 
feeble, squeaky crows, that must, I am sure, have con- 
vulsed the very puppets. Certainly they all disap- 
peared from the windows, and something jumped into 
their places intended to represent flames, but which 
looked so much like reversed tin petticoats, that we 
supposed for a moment they were all standing on 
their heads. All the figures upon the peaks turned 
6 



82 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

their backs upon us. The image of Christ began to 
wave its hands. The kneeling women swayed back 
and forth, clasping their own. Two angels raised to 
their lips long, gilt trumpets, as if to blow a blast; 
then dropped them ; then raised them a second time, 
and even made a third abortive attempt. From one 
of the open doors Virtue was jerked out to be judged, 
Virtue in a red gown. The scales began to dance up 
and down. An angel appeared playing a guitar, and 
Virtue went triumphantly off to the right, to slow and 
appropriate music, an invisible organ playing mean- 
while. Then Vice appeared. I confess he excited my 
instant and profound pity. Such a poor, naked, 
wretched-looking object as he was ! with his hands 
to his face, as though he were heartly ashamed to come 
out in such a plight. I venture to say, if he had been 
decked out like Virtue, he might have stolen off to the 
right, and nobody been the wiser. Good clothes do a 
great deal in Paris. As it was, the scales danced up 
and down a moment, and then the devil appeared with 
a sharp stick, and drove him around the corner to the 
left, with very distant and feeble thunder for an ac- 
companiment. That ended the show. All the little 
puppets jumped back into all the little windows, and 
we came away. 

Speaking of picture galleries, we spent a pleasant 
hour in the gallery of the Luxembourg — a collection 
of paintings made up from the works of living artists, 
and of those who have been less than a year deceased. 
It is sufficiently small to be enjoyable. There is some- 
thing positively oppressive in the vastness of many of 
these galleries. You feel utterly unequal to them ; as 



THE PARIS OF 1869. 83 

though the finite were about to attempt the compre- 
hension of the infinite. One picture here, by Ary 
Scheffer, was exhibited in America, a few years since. 
It is the head and bust of a dead youth in armor — 
a youth with a girlish face. There are others by 
Henri Scheffer, Paulin Guerin, and a host more I 
will not name. One, a scene in the Conciergerie, 
"Reading the List of the Condemned to the Pris- 
oners," by Muller, haunted me long after the doors 
had swung together behind us. The palace of the 
Luxembourg, small, remarkable for the beauty of its 
architecture and charming garden, built for that srrace- 
less regent, Marie de Medici, is now the residence of 
the president of the Senate; and indeed the Senate 
itself meets here. We were shown through the rooms 
open to the public, the private apartments of Marie de 
Medici among them, in one of which was a bust 
of the regent. The garden, like all gardens, is filled 
with trees and shrubs, flowers and fountains, but yet 
with a certain charm of its own. The festooning of 
vines from point to point was a novelty to us, as was 
the design of one of the fountains. Approaching it from 
the rear, we thought it a tomb, — perhaps the tomb 
of Marshal Ney, Ave said, whose statue we were seek- 
ing. It proved to be an artificial grotto, and within it, 
sprinkled with the spray of the fountain, embowered 
in a mass of glistening, green ivy, reclined a pair of 
pretty, marble lovers; peering in upon them from 
above, scowled a dreadful ogre — a horrible giant. 
The whole effect, coming upon it unexpectedly, was 
startling. 

We had a tiresome search for this same statue of 



84 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

Marshal Ney. We chased every marble nymph in the 
garden, and walked and walked, over burning pebbles 
and under a scorching sun, until we almost wished he 
had never been shot. At last, away beyond the gar- 
den, out upon a long avenue, longer and hotter if pos- 
sible than the garden paths, we found it, — erected 
upon the very spot where he was executed. He 
stands with arm outstretched, and mouth opened wide, 
as though he were yawning with the wearisomeness 
of it all. It is a pity that he should give way to his 
feelings so soon, since he must stand there for hun- 
dreds of years to come. The guide-books say he is 
represented in the act of encouraging his men* They 
must have been easily encouraged. 

Of the out-door gay life by gas-light, we saw less 
than we had hoped to see in the French capital. The sea- 
son was unusually cold and wet, and most of the time it 
would have required the spirit of a martyr to sip coffee 
upon the sidewalk. One garden concert we did attend, 
and found it very bright and fairy-like, and all the other 
adjectives used in this connection. We sat wrapped 
in shawls, our feet upon the rounds of the chair before 
us, and shivered a little, and enjoyed a great deal. 
We went one night — in most orthodox company — 
to the Cirque de LTmperatrice, a royal amphitheatre 
with handsome horses, pretty equestriennes, and a 
child balanced and tossed about on horseback, showing 
a frightened, painful smile, which made of the man who 
held her a Herod in our eyes. A girl very rich in 
paint and powder, but somewhat destitute in other 
particulars, skipped and danced upon a slack rope in 
a most joyous and airy manner. When we came out, a 



THE PARIS OF 1869. 85 

haggard woman, with an old, worn face, was crouching 
in a little weary heap by the door that led into the sta- 
bles, wrapped in an old cloak ; and that was our dancing 
girl ! 

We went to the opera, too ; it was Les Huguenots. 
To this day I cannot tell who were the singers. I 
never knew, or thought, or cared. And the bare shoul- 
ders flashing with jewels in the boxes around us, the 
claqueurs in the centre, hired to applaud, clapping their 
hands with the regularity of clock-work, the empty 
imperial box, were nothing to the sight of Paris 
portrayed within itself. You know the familiar opera ; 
do think how strange it was to see it in Paris; to 
look upon the stage and behold the Seine and the towers 
of Notre Dame; the excited populace rising u\> to 
slay and to be slain, with all the while this same fickle 
French people serenely smiling, and chatting, and look- 
ing upon it — the people who were even then ready at a 
word to reenact the same scenes for a different cause. 
Just outside, only a day or two before, something of 
the same spirit, portrayed here for our amusement, 
had broken out again in the election riots. And we re- 
membered that, as we drove around the corner to the 
opera house, mounted soldiers stood upon either side, 
while every other man upon the street was the eye, and 
ear, and arm of the emperor, who knew that the very 
ground beneath his fair, white city tottered and reeled. 

We saw the emperor and empress one day, after 
having looked for them long and in vain upon the 
Champs Elysees, and in the Bois de Boulogne where 
gay Paris disports itself. It was the morning after the 
riot, when they drove unattended, you will remember, 



86 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

through the streets where the rioters had gathered. 
We were in one of the shops upon the Rue de Rivoli. 
Just across the way rose the Tuileries from the side- 
walk. A crowd began to collect about the open arch- 
way through the palace, which affords entrance and 
egress to the great square around which the palace is 
built. "What is it?" we asked of the voluble 
Frenchman who was gradually persuading us that 
brass was gold. " L'Empereur," he replied ; which sent 
us to the sidewalk, and put from our minds all thoughts 
of oxidized silver and copper-colored gold. Just with- 
in the arch paced a lackey in livery of scarlet and gold, 
wearing a powdered wig and general air of importance. 
On either side, the sentries froze into position. The 
gendarmes shouted and gesticulated, clearing the 
streets. A mounted attendant emerged from the arch- 
way ; there followed four bay horses attached to a plain, 
dark, open carriage ; upon the front seat were two gen- 
tlemen, u]3on the back, a gentleman with a lady by his 
side. His hair was iron gray, almost silvery. He 
turned his fice from us as he raised his hat gravely to 
the crowd, displaying a very perceptible bald spot upon 
the back of his head as lie was whizzed around the cor- 
ner and down the street. And that was Napoleon 
III. We saw no American lady in Paris dressed so 
singly as the empress. Something of black lace draped 
her shoulders ; a white straw bonnet, trimmed with black, 
with a few pink roses resting upon her hair, crowned her 
head. She bowed low to the right and left, with a pe- 
culiar, graceful motion, and a smile uj^on the face a little 
worn and pale, a little faded, — but yet the face we all 
know so well. Beautiful Spanish woman, whose face 



V 



THE PARIS OF 1869 87 

was your fortune, though you smiled that day upon the 
people, your cheeks were pale, your eyes were full of 
tears. 

There is nothing more wonderful in Paris than the 
tomb prepared to receive the remains of the first Na- 
poleon, in the chapel of the Hotel des Invalides; fitting, 
it would seem to be, that he should rest here among his 
old soldiers. We left the carriage at the gateway, and 
crossed the open court, mounted the wide steps, fol- 
lowed the half dozen other parties through the open 
doors, and this was what we saw. At the farther end 
of the great chapel or church, an altar, approached by 
wide, marble steps ; gilt and candles embellished it, and 
a large, gilt cross upon it bore an image of the crucified 
Lord. All this was not unlike what we had seen many 
times. But four immense twisted columns rose from 
its four corners — columns of Egyptian marble, writh- 
ing like spotted serpents. They supported a canopy 
of gold, and the play of lights upon this, through the 
stained windows above and on either side, was indescrib- 
able. As we entered the door, darkness enveloped it, 
save where an invisible sun seemed to touch the roof 
of gold and rest lightly upon the pillars ; an invisible 
sun, indeed, for, without, the sky was heavy with 
clouds. As we advanced, this unearthly light touched 
new points — the gilded candlesticks, the dying Saviour, 
but above all the wri things of these monster ser- 
pents, until the whole seemed a thing of life, a some- 
thing which grew and expanded every moment, and was 
almost fearful to look upon. Filling the centre *of the 
chapel was a circular marble wall breast-high. Do you 
remember, in going to the old Senate chamber at 



88 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

Washington, after passing through the rotunda, the 
great marble well-curb clown which you could look into 
the room below ? This was like that, only more vast. 
Over it leaned a hundred people, at least, gazing down 
upon what? A circular, roofless room, a crypt to hold 
a tomb ; each pillar around its circumference was the 
colossal figure of a woman; between these hung the 
tattered tri-colors borne in many a fierce conflict, be- 
neath the burning suns of Egypt and over the dreary 
snows of Russia, with seventy colors captured from the 
enemies of France. A wreath of laurel in the mosaic 
floor surrounded the names Austerlitz, Marengo, Fried- 
land, Jena, Wagram, Moscow, and Pyramids, and in the 
centre rose the sarcophagus of Finland granite, pre- 
pared to hold the body of him whose ambition knew no 
bounds. The letter N" upon one polished side was the 
only inscription it bore. He who wrote his name in 
blood needed no epitaph. The entrance to this crypt is 
through bronze doors, behind the altar, and gained by 
passing under it. On either side stood a colossal figure 
in bronze ; kings they seemed to be, giant kings, in long 
black robes and with crowns of black upon their heads. 
One held, upon the black cushion in his hands, 
a crown of gold and a golden sword; the other, 
a globe crowned with a cross and a golden scej3tre. 
They were so grand, and dark, and still, they 
gazed upon us so fixedly from out their great, grave 
eyes, that I felt a chill in all my bones. They guard 
his tomb. They hold his sword and sceptre while 
he sleeps. I almost expected the great doors to 
swing open at the touch of his hand, and to see him 
come forth. Over these doors were his own words: 



THE PARIS OF 1869. 89 

" I desire that my ashes may repose upon the banks of 
the Seine, in the ruidst of the French people I have 
loved so well." On either side, as we came out, we read 
upon the tombs the names of Bertrand and Duroc, — 
faithful in death ! We wondered idly whose remains 
were guarded in the simple tomb near the door. It was 
surrounded by an iron railing, and bore no inscription. 
Who can it be, we said, that is nameless here among 
the brave? Little did we imagine at the time that 
here rested the body of the great Napoleon, as it was 
brought from St. Helena ; but his spirit seemed to per- 
vade the very atmosphere, and we came out into the 
gloom of the day as though we had, indeed, come from 
the presence of the dead. 



90 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 



CHAPTER VII. 

SIGHTS IN THE BEAUTIFUL CITY. 

The Gobelin tapestry. — How and where it is made. — Pere la- 
Chaise. — Poor Rachel ! — The baby establishment. — " Now 
I lay me." — The little mother. — The old woman who lived 
in a shoe. — The American chapel. — Beautiful women and 
children. — The last conference-meeting. — " I'm a proof- 
reader, I am." 

iY no means least among the places of interest in 
Paris is the manufactory of the Gobelin tapestry 
which serves to adorn the walls of the palace salons. 
O, these long, tiresome salons, which must be visited, 
though your head is ready to burst with seeing, 
your feet to drop off with sliding and slipping over 
the polished floors. The wicked stand upon slippery 
places, and nothing so convinced us of the demoral- 
izing effect of foreign travel as our growing ability 
to do the same. When you have seen one or 
two, you have seen all. There may be degrees in 
gorgeous splendor, but we were filled with all the 
appropriate and now-forgotten emotions at sight of 
the first, and one cannot be more than full. Many of 
the old palace apartments are dull and dingy beyond 
belief, by no means the marble halls of our dreams ; 
but of the others let me say something once for all. 



SIGHTS IN THE BEAUTIFUL CITT. 91 

Under your feet is the treacherous, bare floor of dark 
wood, laid in diamonds, squares, &e. ; over your head, 
exquisite frescoes of gods and goddesses, and all man- 
ner of unearthly and impossible beings enveloped in 
clouds by the bale, — usually an apotheosis of some 
king or queen, or both, and, as a rule, of the most 
wicked known at that time. The Medici were es- 
pecially glorified and raised above the flesh, — and 
they had need to be. On every side pictures in Gobelin 
tapestry, framed into the walls, often so large as to 
cover the entire space from corner to corner, from cor- 
nice to within a few feet of the floor, and in this latter 
space doors, formed of a panel sometimes, for the en- 
trance and egress of servants. Imagine, with all this, 
the gilt, and stucco, and wood-carving ; the flowers, 
and arabesques, and entwined initials; the massive 
chandeliers, with glittering pendants; the mantels of 
rare marbles, of porphyry, and malachite; the cabinets, 
and tables, and escritoires of marqueterie and mosaic; 
the gilded chairs, stiff and stark, richly covered ; the 
bronzes, vases, and curious clocks : and over all the 
air of having never been used from all time, and of 
continuing to be a bare show to all eternity, — and you 
have a faint conception of the salons of half the 
palaces. 

As for the tapestry, pray don't confound it with the 
worsted dogs and Rebekahs-at-the-Well with which we 
sometimes adorn (?) our homes, since one would never 
in any way suggest the other. In these every delicate 
line is faithfully reproduced, and the effect exactly that 
of an oil painting. After long years the colors fade ; 
and we were startled sometimes, in the old palaces, to 



92 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

come upon one of these gray shadows of pictures, out 
from which, perhaps, a pair of wonderful eyes alone 
would seem to shine. In old times the rough walls 
of the grim prison palaces were hung with tapestry 
wrought by the fair fingers of court ladies, the designs 
of tournament and battle being rudely sketched by gay 
gallants. Many a bright dream was worked into the 
canvas, I doubt not, never found upon the pattern; 
many a sweet word said over the task that beguiled 
the dull hours, and kept from mischief idle hands. 
But in the reign of Louis XIV. the art of weaving 
tapestry was brought from Flanders, and a manufac- 
tory established on the outskirts of Paris which still 
remains. To visit it a pass is required. Accordingly 
we addressed a note of solicitation to some high official, 
and in due time came a permit for Madame K. and 
family; and an ill-assorted family we must have ap- 
peared to the official at the gate. There were the 
rooms, hung with specimens of the tapestry, for which 
we did not care, and then the six devoted to the weav- 
ing; long, low, and narrow they were, with hand-looms 
ranged down one side. Through the threads of the 
warp we could see the weavers sitting behind their 
work, each with his box of worsteds and pattern be- 
side him. The colors were wound upon quills, num- 
bers of which hung, each by its thread, from the half- 
completed work. Taking one of these in one hand, 
the workman dexterously separated the threads of the 
warp with the other, and passed the quill through, 
pressing down the one stitch thus formed with its 
pointed end. You can imagine how slow this work 
must be. How tiresome a task it is to delight the eyes 



SIGHTS IN THE BEAUTIFUL CITT. 93 

of princes ! The making of carpets, which has been 
recently added, is equally tiresome. This, too, is hand 
work, they being woven in some way over a round 
stick, and then cut and trimmed with a ])air of shears. 
To make one requires from five to ten years, and their 
cost is from six to twenty thousand dollars. About six 
hundred weavers are said to be here, though we saw 
but a small proportion of that number. They receive 
only from three to five hundred dollars a year, with a 
pension of about half as much if they are disabled. 

From the Gobelins we drove across the Seine again, 
and out to Pere la-Chaise, where stood once the house of 
the confessor of Louis XIV., from whom the cemetery 
takes its name, the Jesuit priest through whose influ- 
ence the edict of Nantes was revoked. A kind of 
ghastly imitation of life it all seemed — the narrow 
houses on either side of the paved streets, that were not 
houses at all, hung with dead flowers and corpse-like 
wreaths, stained an unnatural hue. We j>eered through 
the bars of the locked gate opening into the Jews' 
quarter, trying to distinguish the tomb where lie the 
ashes of a life that blazed, and burned itself out. Poor 
Rachel ! Through the solemn streets, among the quiet 
dwellings of the noiseless city, whence comes no sound 
of joy or grief, where they need no candle, neither 
light of the sun, we walked a while, then plucked a 
leaf or two, and came away. 

One day, when the sun lay hot upon the white 
streets of the beautiful city, we searched among the 
shops of the crooked Faubourg St. Honore for a num- 
ber forgotten now, and the Creche, where the working 
mothers may leave their children during the day. In 



94 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

another and more quiet street we found it. We pulled 
the bell before a massive gateway; the wide doors 
opened upon a smiling portress, who led the way 
across the paved court to the house, where she pointed 
up some stairs, and left us to mount and turn until 
it was no longer possible, until a confusion of doors 
barred our way, when we rapped upon one. Another 
was opened, and we found ourselves among the babies. 
There were, perhaps, twenty in all, the larger children 
being in the school-room below; but even twenty 
toddling, rolling babies, looking so very like the same 
image done in putty over and over again, appears an 
alarming and unlimited number when taken in a body. 
They rolled beneath our feet, they clung to our skirts, 
they peeped out, finger in mouth, from behind the 
doors, they kicked pink toes up from the swinging 
cradles, and in fact, like the clansmen of Rhoderic Dhu, 
appeared in a most startling manner from the most 
unexpected places. Plump little things they were, 
encased in shells of blue-checked aprons, from the outer 
one of which they were surreptitiously slipped upon' 
our entrance to disclose a fresher one beneath. How 
long this process could have continued with a similar 
happy result, we did not inquire. Every head was tied 
up in a tight little night-cap, giving them the appear- 
ance of so many little bag puddings. Every face was 
a marvel of health and contentment, with one kicking, 
screaming exception upon the floor. "Eengleesh," ex- 
plained the Sister of Charity who seemed to have them 
in charge, giving a sweeping wipe to the eyes, nose, 
and mouth, gradually liquidizing, of this one, and trying 
in vain to pacify a nature that seemed peaceless. Who 



SIGHTS IN THE BEAUTIFUL CITY. 95 

was its mother, or how the little stranger chanced to 
be here, we did not learn. On either side of the long, 
narrow room hung the white-curtained cradles, each 
with its pretty, pink quilt. At one end was an altar, 
most modest in its appointments, consisting of hardly 
more than a crucifix and a vase of flowers upon the 
mantel. As we entered the room, the sister stood be- 
fore it with a circle of white caps and blue checked 
aprons around her, a circle of little clasped hands, of 
upturned eyes and lisping lips, repeating what might 
have been, " Now I lay me," for anything we knew. 
Our entrance brought wandering eyes and thoughts. 

At the opposite end of the room, a wide, long win- 
dow swung open, revealing a pleasant garden down 
below, all green and blossoming, with an image of the 
Virgin half hid among the vines. Cool, and fresh, and 
green it seemed after the glare of the hot streets, a 
pleasant picture for the baby eyes. Out from this 
window the little feet could trot upon the guarded roof 
of a piazza. A little chair, a broken doll, and limbless 
horse here were familiar objects to the eyes of the 
mothers in our party, and w 7 hen two children seized 
upon one block with a determination which threatened 
a breach of the peace, we were convinced that even baby 
nature was the same the world over. Supper time 
came, and the children were gathered together in a 
small room, before the drollest little table imagina- 
ble — a kind of elongated doughnut, raised a foot 
from the floor, with a circular seat around it. All the 
little outer shells of blue check were slipped on, all the 
little fat bodies lifted over and set into their places, to 
roll off, or about, at will. A grace was said, to us, I 



96 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

think, since all the little eyes turned towards us, and 
a plate of oatmeal porridge put before each one. Some 
ate with a relish, and a painful search over the face 
with a spoon for the open, waiting mouth ; some leaned 
back to stare at the company ; and others persisted in 
dipping into the dish of their next neighbor. One 
little thing, hardly more than a year old, drew down 
the corners of her mouth in a portentous manner, when 
the motherly one beside her, of the advanced age of 
three years, perhaps, rapped on the table with her 
spoon, and patted the doleful little face, smiling all the 
while, until she actually drew out smiles in return. 
The dear little mother ! An attendant with a homely 
face, creased into all manner of good-natured lines, re- 
solved herself into the old woman who lived in a shoe, 
holding two babies and the porridge dish in her lap, 
balancing one upon the end of the low bench beside her, 
while two or three more stood at her knee, clinging to 
her apron. It was like a nest of open-mouthed birdlings. 
Blessings on the babies, and those, whether of our faith 
or not, who teach and care for them, we thought, as we 
came away. " Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of 
the least of these, ye did it unto me," said the Master. 
Although I said nothing of our church-going in 
London, I cannot pass over our American chapel in 
Paris, with its carved, umbrella-like canopy, shading 
the good Dr. R., who did so much socially, as well as 
spiritually, for Americans there. Here came many 
whose names are well known ; among them our min- 
ister to France, an elderly gentleman of unpretending 
dress and manner, with a kindly, care-worn face. And 
here gathered also a company of beautiful women 



SIGHTS IN THE BEAUTIFUL CITT. 97 

and children, proving the truth of all that has been 
said of our countrywomen. A blending of all types 
were they, as our people are a blending of all nation- 
alities, each more lovely than the other, and all making 
up a picture well worth seeing. I wish I might say as 
much for the opposite sex. One gentleman, who wore 
a red rose always in his button-hole, and turned his 
back upon the minister to stare at the women, had a 
handsome though blase face, and more than one head 
above the pews would have been marked anywhere ; 
but the women and children bore away the palm. The 
delicate, sensitive faces which characterize American 
women, whether the effect of climate, manner of life, 
or of the nerves for which we are so celebrated, are 
found nowhere else, I am sure. 

Besides the Sabbath services a weekly prayer-meet- 
ing was held here. They were singing some sweet 
familiar hymn as we entered one evening and took 
our place among the pilgrims and strangers like our- 
selves. It was the last gathering for the winter. Some 
were off for home, some for a summer of travel ; only a 
few, with the pastor, were to remain. One followed 
another in words of retrospection, and regret at' part- 
ing, until a pall settled over the little company — until 
even we, who had never been there before, wiped our 
eyes because of the general dolefulness. A hush and 
universal mistiness pervaded the air of the dimly-lighted 
house ; the assembly seemed about to pass out of ex- 
istence, Niobe-like. Then up rose Dr. R., the pastor. I 
wondered what he could say to add to the gloom ; 
something like this, perhaps: "Dear people, everybody 
is off; let us shut up the churchj lock the door, and 
7 



98 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

throw away the key. Receive the benediction." But 
no ; I wish you might feel the thrill that went through 
the little company as his words fell from his lips. I 
wish I dared attempt to repeat them. " And now to 
you who go," he said, at last, " who take with you some- 
thing of our hearts, be sure our prayers will follow you. 
Keep us in memory; but, above all, keep in memo- 
ry your church vows. Make yourselves known as 
Christians among Christians. And when you have 
reached home — the home to which our thoughts have 
so often turned together — let this be a lesson. When 
summer comes and you leave the city for the country, 
for the mountains, for the sea-side, take your religion 
with you. Search out some struggling little church 
with a discouraged pastor, — you'll not look far or long 
to find such a one, — and work for that, as you have 
worked for us. And one thing more ; send your 
friends who are coming abroad to us. Send us the 
Christians, for we need them, and by all means send us 
those who are not Christians; they may need us; and 
the Lord bless you, and keep you in all your goings, 
and give you peace." 

Then the people gathered in knots for last words — 
for hand-clasps and good-byes. Now a spirit of peace 
and good will having fallen upon us with the pastor's 
benediction, we gazed wistfully upon the strangers in 
the hope of finding one familiar face ; but there was 
none ; so we came sorrowfully down the aisle. The door 
was almost reached when a sharp, twanging voice be- 
hind us began, "I'm sent out by X. & Y., book publish- 
ers." "O," said I to the friend at my side, "I believe I 
will speak to that man. I know Mr. X., and I do so 



SIGHTS IN THE BEAUTIFUL CITT. 99 

want to speak to somebody." How he accomplished 
the introduction I cannot tell, but in a moment my 
hand was grasped by that of a stout little man, with 
bushy hair and twinkling eyes. "Know Mr. X.? Mr. 
Q. X. ? " he began. To tell the truth I had not that 
honor, my acquaintance having been with his brother; 
but there was no time to explain, and retreat was 
equally impossible ; so I replied that my father knew 
him well ; then thinking that something more was neces- 
sary to explain the sudden and intense interest mani- 
fested in his behalf, added, desperately, " indeed, 
intimately." To this he paid no manner of attention, — 
I doubt if he heard it, — but rattled on : "Fine man, 
Mr. X., Mr. Q. X. Know Mr. Y. ? Fine man, Mr. Y. ; 
been abroad a year; I'm goin' out to meet him, I am. 
He's in Switzerland, Mr. Y. is ; been abroad a year. 
I'm a proof-reader, I am. I s'pose you know what a 
proof-reader is." "Yes," I succeeded in inserting 
while he took breath, remembering some amateur 
attempts of my own in that direction. He began anew : 
" I'm sent out by X. & Y. ; expect to find Mr. Y. in 
Switzerland; fine man — " Will he never stop, I 
thought, beginning a backward retreat from the pew 
down the aisle, with all the while ringing in my ears, 
" I'm a proof-reader, I am," &c. " Don't laugh, pray 
don't," I said to the friends waiting at the door. "It's 
dreadful — is it not ? " What became of him we never 
knew, but in all probability the sexton removed him — 
still vocal — to the sidewalk that night; where, since 
we do not know for how long a time he was wound 
up, he may be iterating and reiterating to this day the 
interesting fact of his occupation, with the eulogy upon 
Messrs. X. & Y. 



100 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD, 



CHAPTER VIII. 

SHOW PLACES I1ST THE SUBUEBS OF PARIS. 

The river omnibuses. — Sevres and its porcelain. — St. Cloud as 
it was. — The crooked little town. — Versailles. — Eugenie's 
" spare bedroom." — The queen who played she was a farmer's 
wife. — Seven miles of paintings. — The portraits of the presi- 
dents. 

THERE are four ways of going to St. Cloud, from 
Paris, says the guide-book ; we chose the fifth, and 
took one of the little steamboats — the river omnibuses 
— that follow the course of the Seine, stopping at the piers 
along the city, which occur almost as often as the street 
crossings. Very insignificant little steamers they are, 
made up of puff, and snort, and smoke, a miniature deck, 
and a man with a big bell. Up the river we steamed 
through a mist that hid everything but the green 
banks, the pretty villas whose lawns drabbled their 
skirts in the river, and after a time the islands that 
seemed to have dropped cool, wet, and green into the 
middle of the stream. We plunged beneath the dark 
arches of the stone bridges — the Pont d'Alma not to 
be forgotten, with its colossal sentinels on either side 
of the middle arch, calm, white, and still, leaning upon 
their muskets, their feet almost dipping into the water, 



SHOW PLACES NEAR PARIS. 101 

their great, stony eyes gazing away down the river. 
What is it they seem to see beyond the bend? What 
is it they watch and wait for, gun in hand ? We pulled 
our wraps about us, found a sheltered place, and went 
on far beyond our destination, through the gray vapor 
that gathered sometimes into great, plashing drops to 
fall upon the deck, or, hovering in mid-air, wiped out 
the distance from the landscape as effectually as the 
sweep of a painter's brush, while it softened and 
spiritualized everything near, from the sharply outlined 
eaves, and gables, and narrow windows of the village 

a O 

struggling up from the water, to the shadowy span of 
the bridges that seemed to rest upon air. Then down 
with the rain and the current we swept again, to land 
at the forsaken pier of Sevres, from which we made our 
way over the pavings, so inviting in these French 
towns for missile or barricade, to the porcelain factory. 
No fear of missing it, since it is the one object of in- 
terest to strangers in the town ; and whatever question 
we asked, the reply would have been the pointing of 
the finger in that one direction. Once there, we clat- 
tered and slipped over the tiled floor after a polite at- 
tendant, through its many show-rooms, and among its 
wilderness of pottery, ancient and modern. The manu- 
factory was established by — I'm sure I don't know 
whom — in seventeen hundred and — something, at 
Vincennes, quite the other side of Paris; but a few 
years later, in the reign of Louis XV., was transferred 
to Sevres, and put under the direction of government. 
It is almost impossible to gain permission to visit the 
workshops, but a permit to pass through the show- 
rooms can easily be obtained. There were queer old- 



102 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD, 

fashioned attempts at glazed ware here, some of them 
adorned with pictures like those we used to see in our 
grandmothers' china closets, of puffy little pink gentle- 
men and ladies ambling over a pink foreground ; a pink 
mountain, of pyramidal form, rising from the wide- 
rimmed hat of the roseate gentlemen ; a pink lake 
standing on end at the feet of the lady, and a little 
pink house, upon which they might both have sat 
comfortably, with a few clouds of jeweller's cotton com- 
pleting the picture. A striking contrast were these to 
the marvels of frailty and grace of later times. The 
rooms were hung with paintings upon porcelain, the 
burial of Attiln, which we had seen at the Louvre, 
among them. Every conceivable model of vase, pitcher, 
and jar was here — quaint, beautiful conceptions of 
form adorned by the hand of skilful artists, from mam- 
moth vases, whirling upon stationary pedestals, to the 
most delicate cup that ever touched red lips. 

At noon we strolled over to St. Cloud, a pleasant 
walk of a mile, beginning with a shaded avenue, rough 
as a country road ; then on, down a street leading to 
the gates of the park of St. Cloud — a street so vain 
of its destination that it was actually lifted up above 
the gardens on either side. From the wide gates we 
passed into a labyrinth of shaded, clean-swept ways, 
and followed one to the avenue of the fountains, where 
we snt upon the edge of a stone basin to await the 
opening of the palace. For do not imagine, dear 
reader, that you can run in and out of palaces without 
ceremony and at all hours of the day. There is an ap- 
pointed time ; there is the gathering outside of the 
curious ; there is the coming of a man with rattling, 



SHOW PLACES NEAR PARIS. 103 

ringing keys; there is the throwing open of wide gates 
and massive doors, and then — and not until then — 
the entering in. As for the fountains, next to those at 
Versailles they have been widely celebrated; but as 
they only played upon Sundays and fete days, we did 
not see them. Their Sunday gowns of mist and flow- 
ing water were laid aside, and naked and bare enough 
they were this day. The wide basins, the lions and 
dolphins, were here, with the marble nymphs, and fauns 
and satyrs, that make a shower-bath spectacle of them- 
selves upon gala days. When the hour refused to 
strike, and we grew hungry, — as one will among the 
rarest and most wonderful things, — we left the park, 
to find the crooked little town that sits in the dust al- 
ways at the feet of palaces. Its narrow streets ran 
close up to the gates, and would have run in had they 
not been shut. Here in the low, smoke-stained room 
of an inn that was only a wine-shop, we spent the time 
of waiting, — our elbows upon the round, dark table, 
which, with the dirt and wooden chairs, made up its 
only furnishing, — sipping the sour wine, cutting slices 
from the long, melancholy stick of bread, all dust and 
ashes, and nibbling the cheese that might have vied 
with Samson for strength. The diamond-paned win- 
dow was flung wide open, for the air seemed soiled and 
stained, like the floor. Just across the narrow, empty 
street, an old house elbowed our inn. The eaves of 
its thatched roof were tufted with moss, out from which 
rose a mass of delicate pink blossoms — pretty inno- 
cents, fairly blushing for shame of their surroundings. 
Through the long passage-way came the sound of high- 
pitched voices — of a strange jargon from the room 



104 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

opening upon the street, where a heavy-eyed maid, be- 
hind a pewter bar, served the blue-bloused workmen 
gathered about the little tables. 

The white palace of St. Cloud, with its Corinthian 
columns, stood daintily back from its gates and the 
low-bred town ; but its long wings had run down, like 
curious children, to peep out through the bars ; so, you 
will see, it formed three sides of a square. It had 
lately been refurnished for the prince imperial. The 
grand salons need not be described ; one is especially 
noted as having been the place where a baby was once 
baptized, who is now ex-emperor of France. In the 
same room the civil contract of marriage between Na- 
poleon I. and Marie Louise was celebrated. A few 
elegant but less spacious rooms were interesting from 
having been the private apartments of the poor queens 
and empresses who have shared the throne of France. 
Gorgeous they were in tapestry and gilding, filled with 
a gaping crowd of visitors, and echoing to the voice of 
a voluble guide. lioyal fingers may have touched the 
pretty trinkets lying about ; royal forms reclined upon 
the soft couches ; royal aching hearts beat to the tick 
of the curious gilt clock, that bore as many faces as a 
woman, some one wickedly said; but it was impossible 
to realize it, or to believe that high heels, and panniers, 
and jaunty hats upon sweet-faced, shrill-voiced Ameri- 
can girls had not ruled and reigned here always, as they 
did this day. 

Versailles lies out beyond St. Cloud, but we gave to 
it another day. We were a merry party, led by Dr. 
R., who left the train at the station, and filled the 
omnibus for the palace. There was an air of having 



SHOW PLACES NEAR PARIS. 105 

seen better days about the city, which was at one time 
the second of importance in France ; it fed and fattened 
upon the court, and when at last the court went away 
not to return, it came to grief. The most vivid recol- 
lection I have of the great court-yard, around which 
extend three sides of the palace, is of its round paving- 
stones — that seemed to have risen up preparatory to 
crying out — and the grove of weather-stained statues 
upon high pedestals, — generals, cardinals, and states- 
men who hated and connived against each other in 
life, doomed now in stone to stare each other out of 
countenance. I am sure we detected a wry face here 
and there, to say nothing of clinched fists. It is a 
gloomy old court-yard at best. The front of the main 
building is all that remains of the old hunting-seat of 
Louis XIII., which his son would not suffer to be de- 
stroyed. It is of dingy, mildewed brick, that can never 
in any possible light appear palatial ; and so blackened 
and purple-stained are the statues before it that they 
might have been just brought from the Morgue. The 
whole palace is only a show place now — a museum 
of painting and statuary. As for the celebrated gar- 
dens, we walked for hours, and still they stretched away 
on every side. We explored paths wide and narrow, 
crooked and straight, and saw clipped trees by the 
mile, with grottoes and the skeletons of the fountains 
that, like naughty children, play o' Sundays, and all 
the wonderful trees, shrubs, and flowers brought from 
the ends of the earth, and ate honey gingerbread (fla- 
vored with extract of turpentine) before an open booth, 
and were ready to faint with weariness; and when at last 
a broad avenue opened before us with the Trianons, 



106 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

which must be seen, at the farther end, we would not 
have taken the whole place as a gift. It must have 
been at this point that we fortified ourselves with the 
gingerbread. 

The Grand Trianon alone were we permitted to enter. 
It is in the form of an Italian villa, with a ground floor 
only, and long windows opening upon delightful gar- 
dens. Like Versailles, it is now a mere show, although 
a suit of apartments was fitted up here some time since, 
in anticipation of a neighborly visit from Queen Vic- 
toria to Eugenie, making of the little palace a kind of 
guest chamber, a spare bedroom. As we followed a 
winding path through the park, we came suddenly 
upon an open glade, surrounded and shaded by forest 
trees. Over the tiny lake, in the centre, swans were 
sailing. Half hidden among the wide-spread, sweeping 
branches of the trees were the scattered farm-houses 
of a deserted village — only half a dozen in all, of rude, 
half Swiss architecture, made to imitate age and decay, 
quaintly picturesque. Here Marie Antoinette and her 
court played at poverty. Do you remember how, 
w T hen she grew weary of solemn state, she came here 
with a few favored ones to forget her crown, and dream 
she was a farmer's wife? The dairy was empty, the 
marble slab bare upon which she made butter for her 
guests. Just beyond was the mill, but the wheel was 
still. It was a pleasant dream — a dream of Arcadia. 
Ah, but there was a fearful awakening ! " The poorest 
peasant in the land," said the queen, " has one little 
spot which she can call her own ; the Queen of France 
asks no more." So she shut the gates upon the people 
who had claimed and held the right, from all time, to 



SHOW PLACES NEAR PARIS. 107 

wander fit will through the gardens of their kings. 
Then they hated her, whom they had greeted with 
shouts of welcome when she came a bride from over 
the border. " The Austrian ! the Austrian ! " they 
hissed through the closed gates. And one day they 
dragged her out from a bare cell in the Conciergerie, 

— no make-believe of rough walls, of coarse fare there, 

— they bound the slender hands behind her, they thrust 
into a prison cart the form that had been used to rest 
upon down and silken cushions, and bore her over 
the rough stones to the scaffold. Ah, it makes one 
shudder! 

To see the two hundred rooms of the palace of 
Versailles requires a day, at least ; but we, fearful that 
this might be our last opportunity, determined to spend 
the remaining hour or two and our last atom of strength 
in the attempt. A wandering cabman pounced upon 
us as we came down the avenue from the Trianons, 
and bore us back to the palace, where we toiled up 
and down the grand stairway, and peeped into the 
chapel that had echoed to the mockery of worship in 
the time of the king who built all this — the king who 
loved everybody's wife but his own — so faithlessly! 
There was a dizzy hurrying through corridors lined 
with statuary, through one salon after another hung 
with Horace Vernet's paintings describing the glories 
of France — the crowning of its kings, the' reception 
of its ambassadors, the signing of its treaties, the 
winning of its battles; but was all this bloodshed, and 
all this agony depicted upon canvas, for the glory of 
France? There were immense galleries, where, on 
every side, from cornice to floor, one was conscious of 



108 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

nothing but smoke and cannon, wounds and gore, 
and rolling eyes. We walked over the prescribed 
three miles and a half of floors slippery as ice, and 
gazed upon the seven miles of pictures, with a feeling 
less of pleasure or gratified curiosity than of satisfaction 
at having done Versailles. Room after room was de- 
voted to portraits, full lengths and half lengths, side 
faces and full fronts ; faces to be remembered, if one 
had not been in such mortal haste, and faces that 
would never have been missed from the ermined robes. 
In a quiet corner we were startled to find some of our 
good presidents staring down upon us from the wall 
A mutual surprise it seemed to be. But if we Ameri- 
cans must be awkward and clownish to the last degree, 
half civilized, and but one remove from barbarism, don't 
let us put the acme of all this upon canvas, and hang 
it in the palace of kings. Here was President Grant 
represented in the saloon of a steamboat, — America to 
the last, — one leg crossed, one heel upon the opposite 
knee, and his head about to sink into his coat collar in 
an agony of terror at finding himself among quality. 
His attitude might have been considered graceful and 
dignified in a bar-room, or even in the saloon of a 
Mississippi steamer; but it utterly failed in both par- 
ticulars in the Palace of Versailles, among courtly men 
and high-bred women. 



A VISIT TO Bltt/SSELS. 109 



CHAPTER IX. 

A VISIT TO BRUSSELS. 

To Brussels. — The old and new city. — The paradise and 
purgatory of dogs. — The Hotel de Ville and Grand Place. — 
St. Gudule. — The picture galleries. — Wiertz and his odd 
paintings. — Brussels lace and an hour with the lace-makers. 
How the girls found Charlotte Bronte's school. — The scene 
of "Villette." 

THERE were one or two more excursions from 
Paris, and then, when we had grasped the fat 
hand of Monsieur, our landlord, and kissed the dark 
cheeks of Madame, his wife, and submitted to the same 
from Mademoiselle, their daughter, with light hearts, 

serene consciences, and the family we started for 

Brussels. It is a six hours' ride by rail. 

Almost as soon as the line between France and Bel- 
gium is passed, the low hills drop away, the thatch- 
roofed cottages give place to those of whitewashed 
brick, with bright, red-tiled roofs. All along the way 
were the straight poplars overrun with ivy, and the 
land was cared for, coaxed, and fairly driven to the high- 
est point of cultivation. Women were at work in the 
fields, and more than one Maud Muller leaned upon her 
rake to gaze after us. Soon, when there were only 
level fields beneath a level sky, the windmills began 



110 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

to appear in the distance, slowly swinging the ghostly- 
arms that became long, narrow sails as we neared them. 
At two o'clock we reached Brussels, after being nearly- 
resolved into our original element — dust. Nothing but 
a sand-hill ever equalled the appearance we presented 
when we stepped from the train ; nor did we need any- 
thing so much as to be thrown over a line and beaten 
like a carpet when we finally gained our hotel. 

The old city of Brussels is crooked, and dull, and 
picturesque; but joined to it — like an old man with 
a gay young wife — is the beautiful Paris-like upper 
town, with its houses covered with white stucco, and a 
little mirror outside of every window, placed at an an- 
gle of forty-five degrees, so that Madame, sitting within, 
can see all that passes upon the street, herself unseen. 
Here in the new town are the palaces, the finest 
churches, the hotels, and Marie Therese's park, where 
young and old walk, and chat, and make eyes at each 
other summer evenings. Scores of strings, with a 
poodle at one extremity and a woman at the other, 
may here be seen, with little rugs laid upon the 
ground for the pink-eyed puff-balls to rest upon. 
Truly Brussels is the paradise and purgatory of dogs. 
Anywhere upon the streets you may see great, hungry- 
eyed animals dragging little carts pushed by women ; 
and it is difficult to determine which is the most for- 
lorn — the dog, the cart, or the woman. "W^e never 
understood before what it was to "work like a^ dog." 
At one extremity of the park was the white, new Sen- 
ate-house; opposite, the gray, barrack-like palace of 
the king ; upon the third side, among others, our hotel. 
Here we were happy in finding another family of 



A VISIT TO BRUSSELS. Ill 

friends. With them we strolled down into the old 
town, after dinner, taking to the middle of the street, 
in continental fashion, as naturally as ducks to water ; 
crossing back and forth to stare up at a church or into 
a shop window, — straggling along one after another 
in a way that would have been marked at home, but 
was evidently neither new nor strange here, where the 
native population attended to their own affairs with a 
zeal worthy of reward, and other parties of sight-seers 
were plying their vocation with a perseverance that 
would have won eminence in any other profession. 
Through crooked by-ways we wandered to the Grand 
Place of the old city — a paved square shut in by high 
Spanish-gabled houses ornamented with the designs 
of the various guilds. From the windows of one hung 
the red, yellow, and black Belgian flag. There was no 
rattle of carts, no clatter of hoofs. Down upon the 
dark paving-stones a crowd of women, old and young, 
with handkerchiefs crossed over their bosoms, were 
holding a flower-market. Just behind them rose the 
grim statues of the two counts, Egmont and Van Horn, 
— who lost their heads while striving to gain their cause 
against Spanish tyranny and the Spanish Inquisition, — 
and the old royal palace, blackened and battered by 
time and the hand of forgotten sculptors, until it seemed 
like the mummy of a palace, half eaten away. Just 
before them was the Hotel de Ville, with its beautiful 
tower of gray stone, its roof a mass of dormer windows. 
It comes to me like a picture now — the gathering 
shadows of a summer night, the time-worn houses, 
lovely in decay, the tawdry flag, and the heads of the 
old women nodding over their flowers. 



112 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

Brussels has a grand church dedicated to Saints 
Michael and Gudule. If I could only give to you, 
who have not seen them, some idea of the vastness 
and beauty of these cathedrals ! But descriptions are 
tiresome, and dimensions nobody reads. If I could 
only tell you how far extending they are, both upon 
earth and towards heaven — how they seem not so much 
to have been built stone upon stone, as to have stood 
from the foundation of the world, solitary, alone, until, 
after long ages, some strolling town came to wonder, 
and worship, and sit at their feet in awe ! We crept in 
through the narrow door that shut behind us with a 
dull echo. A chill like that of a tomb pervaded the 
air, though a summer sun beat down upon the stones 
outside. A forest of clustered columns rose all around 
us. Far above our heads was a gray sky, the groined 
arches where little birds flew about. Stained windows 
gleamed down the vast length, broken by the divisions 
and subdivisions, — one, far above the grand entrance, 
like the wheel of a chariot of fire. All along the walls, 
over the altar, and filling the chapel niches, were pic- 
tures of saints, and martyrs, and blessed virgins, that 
seemed in the dim distance like dots upon the wall. 
Muffled voices broke upon the stillness. Far up the 
nave a little company of worshippers knelt before the 
altar — workingmen who had thrown down mallet 
and chisel for a moment, to creep within the shadows 
of the sanctuary; market-women, a stray water-cress 
still clinging to the folds of their gowns ; children 
dropping upon the rush kneeling-chairs, to mutter a 
prayer God grant they feel, with ever and anon, above 
the murmur of the prayer, above the drone of white- 



A VISIT TO BRUSSELS. 113 

robed priests, the low, full chant from hidden singers, 
echoing through the arches and among the pillars, fol- 
lowing us down the aisles to where we read upon the 
monuments the deeds of some old knight of heathen 
times, whose image has survived his dust — whose 
works have followed him. 

After leaving the church we wandered among and 
through the picture galleries in the old palaces of the 
city, — galleries of modern Belgian art, with one ex- 
ception, where were numberless flat old Flemish pic- 
tures, and dead Christs, livid, ghastly, horrible to look 
upon. The best of Flemish art is not in Brussels. 
Among the galleries of modern paintings, that of the 
odd artist, recently deceased, Wiertz, certainly deserves 
mention. It contains materials for a fortune to an en- 
terprising Yankee. The subjects of the pictures are 
allegorical, parabolical, and diabolical, the scenes being 
laid in heaven, hell, and mid-air. In one, Napoleon I. 
is represented surrounded by the flames of hell, folding 
his arms in the Napoleonic attitude, while his soldiers 
crowd around him to hold up maimed limbs and ghast- 
ly wounds with a denunciatory and angry air. Widows 
and orphans thrust themselves before his face with 
anathematizing countenances. In fact, the situation is 
decidedly unpleasant for the hero, and one longs for a 
bucket of cold water. Many of the pictures were be- 
hind screens, and to be seen through peep-holes — one 
of them a ghastly thing, of coffins broken open and 
their risen occupants emerging in shrouds. Upon the 
walls around the room were painted half-open doors 
and windows with pretty girls peeping out ; close down 
to the floor, a dog kennel, from which its savage occu- 
8 



114 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

pant was ready to spring; just above him, from a lat- 
ticed window, an old concierge leaned out to ask our 
business. Even in the pictures hanging upon the walls 
was something of this trickery. In one the foot and 
hand of a giant were painted out upon the frame, so 
that he seemed to be just stepping out from his place ; 
and I am half inclined to think that many of the peo- 
ple walking about the room were originally framed 
upon the walls. 

Brussels is always associated in one's mind with its 
laces. We visited one of the manufactories. A dozen 
or twenty women were busy in a sunny, cheerful room, 
working out the pretty leaves and flowers, with needle 
and thread, for the point lace, or twisting the bobbins 
among the innumerable pins in the cushion before 
them to follow the pattern for the point applique. 
When completed, you know, the delicate designs are 
sewed upon gossamer lace. Upon a long, crimson- 
covered table in the room above were spread out, in 
tempting array, the results of this tiresome labor — 
coiffures that would almost resign one to a bald spot, 
handkerchiefs insnaring as cobwebs, barbes that fairly 
pierced our hearts, and shawls for which there are no 
words. I confess that these soft, delicate things have 
lor women a wonderful charm — that as we turned 
over and over in our hands the frail, yellow-white cob- 
webs, some of us more than half forgot the tenth com- 
mandment. 

Table-cVhote over, one evening, "Where shall we 
go? What can we do ? " queried one of the four girls 
in our party, two of whom had but just now escaped 
from the thraldom of a French pensionnat. 



A VISIT TO BRUSSELS. 115 

"It would be so delightful if we could walk out for 
once by ourselves. If there were only something to 
see — somewhere to go." 

" Girls ! " exclaimed Axelle, suddenly, " was not the 
scene of Villette laid in Brussels? Is not Charlotte 
Bronte's boarding-school here ? I am sure it is. Sup- 
pose we seek it out — we four girls alone." 

"But how, and where?" and "Wouldn't that be 
fine? " chorused the others. There was a hasty search 
through guide-books ; but alas ! not a clew could we 
find, not a peg upon which to hang the suspicions that 
were almost certainties. 

" I am sure it was here," persisted Axelle. " I wish 
we had a Villette" 

" We could get one at an English library," sug- 
gested another. 

"If there is any English library here," added a third, 
doubtfully. 

Evidently that must be our first point of departure. 
We could ask for information there. Accordingly we 
planned our crusade, as girls do, — the elders smiling 
unbelief, as elders will, — and sallied out at last into 
the summer sunshine, very brave in our hopes, very 
glad in our unwonted liberty. A commissionaire 
gave us the address of the bookstore we sought as 
we were leaving the hotel. " There are no obsta- 
cles in the path of the determined," we said, step- 
ping out upon the Rue Royale. Across the way was 
the grand park, a maze of winding avenues, shaded by 
lofty trees, with nymphs, and fauns, and satyrs hiding 
among the shrubbery, and with all the tortuous paths 
made into mosaic pavement by the shimmering sun- 



116 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

light. But to Axelle Villette was more real than that 
June day. 

"Do you remember," she said, "how Lucy Snow 
reached the city alone and at night? — how a young 
English stranger conducted her across the park, she fol- 
lowing in his footsteps through the darkness, and hear- 
ing only the tramp, tramp, before her, and the drip of 
the rain as it fell from the soaked leaves ? This must 
be the park." 

When we had passed beyond its limits, we espied a 
little square, only a kind of alcove in the street, in the 
centre of which was the statue of some military hero. 
Behind it a quadruple flight of broad stone steps led 
down into a lower and more quiet street. Facing us, 
as we looked down, was a white stuccoed house, with a 
glimpse of a garden at one side. 

" See ! " exclaimed Axelle, joyfully ; " I believe this is 
the very place. Don't you remember when they had 
come out from the park, and Lucy's guide left her 
to find an inn near by, she ran, — being frightened, — 
and losing her way, came at last to a flight of steps 
like these, which she descended, and found, instead of 
the inn, the pensionnat of Madame Beck ? " Only the 
superior discretion and worldly wisdom of the others 
prevented Axelle from following in Lucy Snow's foot- 
steps, and settling the question of identity then and 
there. As it was, we went on to the library, a stuffy 
little place, with a withered old man for sole attendant, 
who, seated before a table in the back shop, was poring 
over an old book. We darted in, making a bewil- 
dering flutter of wings, and pecked him with a dozen 
questions at once, oddly inflected : Was the scene of 



A VISIT TO BRUSSELS. 117 

Villette laid in Brussels?" and "Is the school really 
here?" and "You dorft sny so! "though we had in- 
sisted upon it from the first, and he had just replied in 
the affirmative; lastly, "O, do tell us how we may 
find it." 

"You must go so-and-so," he said at length, when we 
paused. 

"Yes," we replied in chorus; "we have just come 
from there." 

"And," he went on, "you will see the statue of 
General Beliard." 

We nudged each other significantly. 

"Go down the steps in the rear, and the house facing 
you — " 

" We knew it. We felt it," we cried, triumphantly ; 
and his directions ended there. We neither heeded 
nor interpreted the expression of expectation that stole 
over his face. We poured out only a stream of thanks 
which should have moistened the parched sands of his 
soul, and then hastened to retrace our steps. We 
found the statue asfain. We descended into the nar- 
row, noiseless street, and stood, — an awe-struck group, 
— before the great square house, upon the door-plate 
of which we read, — 

"pensions at de demoiselles. 
Heger — Parent." 

" Now," said Axelle, when we had drawn in with a 
deep breath, the satisfaction and content w T hich shone 
out again from our glad eyes, " we will ring the 
bell." " 



118 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

"You will not think of it," gasped the choir of 
startled girls. 

"To be sure; what have we come for?" was her 
reply. " We will only ask permission to see the gar- 
den, and as the portress will doubtless speak nothing 
but French, some one of you, fresh from school, must 
act as mouthpiece." They stared at Axelle, at each 
other, and at the steps leading into the upper town, as 
though they meditated flight. "I cannot," and "I 
cannot," said each one of the shrinking group. 

Axelle laid her hand upon the bell, and gave one 
long, strong pull. " Now," she said, quietly, " some one 
of you must speak. You are ladies : you will not run 
away." 

And they accepted the situation. 

We were shown into a small salon, where presently 
there entered to us a brisk, sharp-featured little French 
woman, — a teacher in the establishment, — who smiled 
a courteous welcome from out her black eyes as we 
apologized for the intrusion, and made known our 
wishes. 

" We are a party of American girls," we said, " who, 
having learned to know and love Charlotte Bronte 
through her books, desire to see the garden of which 
she wrote in Villetter 

" O, certainly, certainly," was the gracious response. 
"Americans often come to visit the school and the 
garden." 

" Then this is the school where she was for so long 
a time ? " we burst out simultaneously, forgetting our 
little prepared speeches. 

"Yes, mesdemoiselles ; I also was a pupil at that 



A VISIT TO BRUSSELS. HQ 

time," was the reply. We viewed the dark little wo- 
man with sudden awe. 

" But tell us," we said, crowding around her, " was 
she like — like — " We could think of no comparison 
that would do justice to the subject. 

The reply was a shrug of the shoulders, and, "She 
was just a quiet little thing, in no way remarkable. I 
am sure," she added, " we did not think her a genius; 
and indeed, though I have read her books, I can see 
nothing in them to admire or praise so highly ! " 

"But they are so wonderful!" ventured one of our 
number, gushingly. 

" They are very untrue," she replied, while something 
like a spark shot from the dark eyes. 

O, shades of departed story-tellers, is it thus ye are 
to be judged ? 

"Madame Heger," she went on, " who still has charge 
of the school, is a most excellent lady, and not at all 
the person described as * Madame Beck.' " 

"And M. Paul Emmanuel, — Lucy Snow's teacher- 
lover," — we ventured to suggest with some timidity. 

" Is Madame Heger's husband, and was at that time," 
she replied, with a little angry toss of the head. After 
this terrible revelation there was nothing more to be 
said. 

She led the way through a narrow passage, and open- 
ing a door at the end, we stepped into the garden. 
We had passed the class-rooms on our right — where, 
" on the last row, in the quietest corner," Charlotte 
and Emily used to sit. We could almost see the pale 
faces, the shy figures bending over the desk in the 
gathering dusk. 



120 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

The garden is less spacious than it was in Charlotte's 
time, new class-rooms having been added, which cut 
off something from its length. But the whole place 
was strangely familiar and pleasant to our eyes. Shut 
in by surrounding houses, more than one window over- 
looks its narrow space. Down its length upon one 
side extends the shaded walk, the " allee defendue" 
which Charlotte paced alone so many weary hours, 
when Emily had returned to England. Parallel to 
this is the row of giant pear trees, — huge, misshapen, 
gnarled, — that bore no fruit to us but associations 
vivid as memories. From behind these, in the sum- 
mer twilight, the ghost of Villetle was wont to steal, 
and buried at the foot of "Methuselah," the oldest, we 
knew poor Lucy's love-letters were hidden to-day. A 
seat here and there, a few scattered shrubs, evergreen, 
laurel, and yew, scant blossoms, paths damp, green- 
crusted — that was all. Not a cheerful place at its 
brightest; not a sunny spot associated in one's mind 
with summer and girlish voices. It was very still that 
day; the pupils were off for the long vacation, and yet 
how full the place was to us! The very leaves over- 
head, the stones in the walls around us, whispered a 
story, as we walked to and fro where little feet, that 
tired even then of life's rough way, had gone long years 
before. 

" May we take one leaf — only one ? " we asked, as 
we turned away. 

" As many as you please ; " and the little French wo- 
man grasped at the leaves growing thick and dark 
above her head. We plucked them with our own 
hands, tenderly, almost reverently; then, with many 
thanks, and our adieus, we came away. 



A VISIT TO BRUSSELS. 121 

" We have found it ! " we exclaimed, when we had 
returned to the hotel and our friends. They only 
smiled their unbelief. 

"Do you not know — can you not see — O, do 
you not feel ? " we cried, displaying our glistening 
trophies, " that these could have grown nowhere but 
upon the pear trees in the old garden where Charlotte 
Bronte used to walk and dream ? " 

And our words carried conviction to their hearts. 



122 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 




CHAPTER X. 

WATERLOO AND THROUGH BELGIUM. 

To Waterloo. — Beggars and guides. — The Mound. — Chateau 
Hougomont. — Victor Hugo's ''sunken road." — Antwerp. 

— A visit to the cathedral. — A drive about the city. — An 
excursion to Ghent. — The funeral services in the cathedral. 

— "Poisoned? Ah, poor man!" — The watch-tower. — 
The Friday-market square. — The nunnery. — Longfellow's 
pilgrims to " the belfry of Bruges." 

E could not leave the city without driving out 
to the battle-field of. Waterloo. It is about a 
dozen miles to The Mound, and you may take the pub- 
lic coach if you choose — it runs daily. • Our party be- 
ing large, we preferred to engage a carriage. 

We left the house after breakfast, and passed through 
the wide, delightful avenues of the Foret de Soignes, — 
the Bois de Boulogne of Brussels, — then across the 
peaceful country which seemed never to have known 
anything so disturbing as war. Beyond the park lies 
the village which gave its name to the battle-field 
though the thickest of the fight was not there. In an 
old brick church, surmounted by a dome, lie intombed 
many minor heroes of the conflict. But heroes soon 
pall upon the taste, and nothing less than Wellington 
or Napoleon himself could have awakened a spark of 



WATERLOO AND THROUGH BELGIUM. 123 

interest in us by this time. Then, too, the vivid pres- 
ent blinded us to the past. The air was sweet with 
summer scents. Mowers were busy in the hayfields. 
A swarm of little barefooted beggars importuned us, 
turning dizzy somersaults until we could see only a 
maze of flying, dusty feet on either side. One troop, 
satisfied or despairing, gave way to another, and the 
guides were almost as annoying as the beggars. They 
walk for miles out of their villages to forestall each 
other, and meet the carriages that are sure to come 
from Brussels on pleasant days. They drive sharp bar- 
gains. As you near the centre of interest, competition 
is greater, and their demands proportionately less. We 
refused the extortionate overtures of two or three, and 
finally picked up a shrewd-faced young fellow in a blue 
blouse, who hung upon the step of the carriage, or ran 
beside it for the last mile or two of the distance. The 
village of Mont St. Jean iollows that of Waterloo. It 
is only a scant collection of whitewashed farm build- 
ings of brick. We rolled through it without stopping, 
and out again between the quiet, smiling fields, our 
minds utterly refusing to grasp the idea that they 
had swarmed once with an army; that in this little 
village we had just left — dull, half asleep in the sun- 
shine — dreadful slaughter had held high carnival one 
July day, not many years before. Even when the guide, 
clinging to the door of the carriage, rattled over the 
story of the struggle in a patois all his own, hardly a 
shadow of the scene was presented to us. 

As our horses slackened their pace, he stepped down 
from his perch to gather a nosegay of the flowers by 
the road-side, making no pause in his mechanical narra- 



124 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

tive — of how the Anglo-Belgian army were gathered 
upon this road and the fields back to the wood, on 
the last day of the fight; how many of the officers had 
been called at a moment's notice from the gayeties at 
Brussels, and more than one was found dead upon the 
field the next day, under the soaking rain, dressed as 
for a ball. He pushed back his visorless cap, uttering 
an exclamation over the heat, and adding, in the same 
breath, that just here, about Mont St. Jean, the battle 
waged fiercely in the afternoon, when Ney, with his 
brave cuirassiers, tried in vain to carry the position ; 
and all the time, the summer sounds of twittering 
birds and hum of locusts were in our ears ; the bare- 
footed children still turned upon their axles beside the 
carriage wheels as we rolled along, and that other day 
seemed so far away, that we could neither bring it 
near nor realize it. One grim reminder of the past 
rose in the distance, and, as we drew near, swelled and 
grew before our eyes. It was the huge mound of earth 
raised two hundred feet, to commemorate the victory 
of the allies. Hills were cut down, the very face of 
nature changed for miles around, to rear this monu- 
ment to pride and vain-glory. Upon its summit 
crouches the Belgian lion. 

We turn from the paved road, when we have 
reached what seems to be a mass of unsightly ruins, 
with only a tumbling outbuilding left here and there. 
The whole is enclosed by a wall, which skirts also .an 
orchard, neglected, grown to weeds. The carriage 
stops before the great gates. It is very cool and quiet 
in the shaded angle of the battered wall as we step 
down. It has been broken and chipped as if by pick- 



WATERLOO AND THROUGH BELGIUM. 125 

axes. Ah ! the shot struck hardest here. The top of 
the low wall is irregular ; the bricks have been knocked 
out ; the dust has sifted down ; the mosses have 
gathered, and a fringe of grass follows all its length. 
Even sweet wild flowers blossom where the muskets 
rested in those dreadful days. At intervals, half way 
up its height, a brick is missing. Accident ? Ah, no ; 
hastily constructed loopholes, through which the 
English fired at first, before the horrible time when 
they beat each other down with the butts of their 
guns which they fought hand to hand here, like wild 
beasts. 

We enter the court-yard. Only a roughly plastered 
room or two remain, where the greed that gloats even 
over the field of blood offers souvenir's of the place 
importunately. In the centre of this court-yard may 
still be seen the well that was fille 1 with corpses. It 
must have given out blood for many a day. Upon 
one side are the remains of the building used for a 
hospital in the beginning of the fight, but where the 
wounded and dying perished in torment, Avhen the 
French succeeded in firing the chateau ; for this is 
Hougomont. 

We came out at the gateway where we had entered ; 
crossed the slope under the shadow of the branches 
from the apple trees, and followed the road winding 
through wheat-fields to The Mound. Breast-high on 
either side rose the nodding crests ; and among them 
wild flowers, purple, scarlet, and blue, fairly dazzled 
our eyes, as they waved with the golden grain in the 
sunshine. "O, smiling harvest-fields," we said, "you 
have been sown with heroes ; you have been enriched 
with blood ! " 



126 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

It was a long, dizzy climb up the £ice of The Mound 
to the narrow foothold beside the platform where 
rests that grim, gigantic lion. Once there, we held to 
every possible support in the hurricane of wind that 
seized us, while the guide gave a name to each historic 
farm and village spread out before our eyes. Only a 
couple of miles cover all the battle-field — the smallest 
where grand armies ever met ; but the slaughter was 
the more terrible. 

Connected with an inn at the foot of The Mound is 
a museum of curiosities. Here are queer old helmets 
worn by the cuirassiers, hacked and rust-stained ; bro- 
ken swords, and old-fashioned muskets ; buttons, and 
bullets even — everything that could be garnered after 
such a sowing of the earth. 

In unquestioning faith we bought buttons stained 
with mildew, and bearing upon them, in raised letters, 
the number of a regiment. Alas ! reason told us, later, 
that the buttons disposed of annually here would sup- 
ply an ordinary army. And rumor added, that they 
are buried now in quantities, to be exhumed as often 
as the supply fails. 

I remembered Victor Hugo to have said in JLes Mi- 
ser ables something in regard to a sunken road here, 
which proved a pitfall to the French, and helped, in 
his judgment, to turn the fortunes of the day. But 
we had seen no sunken road. I mentioned it to the 
guide, who said that Victor Hugo spent a fortnight ex- 
amining the ground before writing that description of 
the battle. " He lodged at our house," he added. " My 
father was his guide. What he wrote was all quite 
true. There is now no road such as he described ; 



^ WATERLOO AND THROUGH BELGIUM. 127 

that was all changed when the earth was scraped to- 
gether to form The Mound." 

We lunched at the inn, surrounded by mementos 
and trophies, and served by an elderly woman, whose 
father had been a sergeant in the Belgian army, then 
late in the afternoon drove back to town. 

The pleasant days at Brussels soon slipped by, and 
then we were off to Antwerp — only an hour's ride. 
I will tell you nothing about the former wealth and 
commercial activity of the city — that in the sixteenth 
century it was the wealthiest city in Europe, &c, &c. 
For all these interesting particulars, see Murray's Hand- 
book of Northern Germany. As soon ns we had se- 
cured rooms at the hotel, dropped our satchels and 
umbrellas, we followed the chimes to the cathedral. 
The houses of the people have crept close to it, until 
many of them, old and gray, have fairly grown to it, 
like barnacles to a ship ; or it seemed as though they 
had built their nests, like the rooks, under the moss- 
grown eaves. The interior of the cathedral was sin- 
gularly grand and open. As w r e threw our shawls 
about us — a precaution never omitted — an old man 
shuffled out from a dark corner to show the church, 
take our francs, and pull aside the curtains from before 
the principal pictures, if so dignified a name as curtain 
can be applied to the dusty, brown cambric that ob- 
structed our vision. Rubens's finest pictures are here, 
and indeed the city abounds in all that is best of Flem- 
ish art, — most justly, since it was the birthplace of its 
master. Rubens in the flesh we had seen at the 
Louvre ; the spiritual manifestation was reserved for 
Antwerp ; and to recall the city is to recall a series of 
visions of which one may not speak lightly. 



128 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

Across from the cathedral, upon a wide wooden 
bench in the market-place we sat a moment to con- 
sider our ways — the signal for the immediate swoop- 
ing down upon us of guides and carriages, and the 
result of which was, our departure in a couple of dingy- 
open vehicles to finish the city. We crawled about 
the town like a diminutive funeral procession, dis- 
mounting at the Church of St. Jacques to see the pic- 
tures, with which it is filled. In one of the chapels 
was a young American artist, copying Rubens's picture 
of " A Holy Family " — the one in which his two wives 
and others of his family enact the part of Mary, Mar- 
tha, St. Jerome, &c. Behind the high altar is the 
tomb of Rubens, with an inscription of sufficient length 
to extinguish an ordinary man. There was a museum, 
too, in the city, rich in the works of Rubens and Vandyck, 
and the fine park in the new part of the town, as well 
as the massive docks built by the first Napoleon, were 
yet to be seen. The older members of the party 
were in the first carriage, and received any amount of 
valuable information, which was transmitted to us who 
followed in a succession of shouts sounding as much 
like " fire ! " as anything else, with all manner of beck- 
oning, and pointing, and wild throwing up of arms, that 
undoubtedly gave vent to their feelings, but brought 
only confusion and distraction to ouf minds. Not to 
be outdone, our driver began a series of utterly unintel- 
ligible explanations, the only part of which we under- 
stood in the least was, when pointing to the docks, he 
ejaculated, "Napoleon!" At that we nodded our 
heads frantically, which only encouraged him to go on. 
Pausing before a low, black house, exactly like all the 



WATERLOO AND THROUGH BELGIUM. 129 

others, he pointed to it with his whip. It said " Hy- 
draulics " upon a rickety sign over the door. There 
were old casks, and anchors, and ropes, and rotting 
wood all around, for it was down upon the wharves. 
We tried to look enlightened, gratified even, and suc- 
ceeded so well that he entered upon an elaborate dis- 
sertation in an unknown tongue. What do you sup- 
pose it was all about ? Can it be that he was explain- 
ing the principles of hydraulics ? 

We made, one day, an excursion from Antwerp to 
Ghent and Bruges. We left the train at Ghent to 
walk up through the narrow streets, that have no side- 
walks, to the cathedral. There was a funeral within. 
The driver of the hearse profusely decorated with in- 
verted feather dusters, was comfortably smoking his 
pipe outside. A little hunchbacked guide, with great, 
glassy eyes, and teeth like yellow fangs, led us up the 
aisle to the screen beside the high altar, where we 
looked between the tombs and the monuments, upon 
the long procession of men circling around the coffin 
in the choir, each with a lighted candle in hand. As 
there were only about a dozen candles in all, and each 
must hold one while he passed the coffin, it was a piece 
of dexterity, at least, to manage them, which so en- 
grossed our attention, that we caught but an occasional 
sentence from our guide's whispered story of the 
seventh bishop of Ghent, who donated the pulpit to the 
cathedral, and around whose marble feet we were try- 
ing to peep ; of the ninth, who was poisoned as he went 
upon some mission ("Poisoned? Ah, poor man !" we 
ejaculated, absently, our eyes anxiously fixed upon one 
man to whom had been given no candle as yet) ; of the 
9 



130 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

tall brass candlesticks, supposed to have been brought 
from England in the time of Cromwell, and a host more 
of fragmentary information, forgotten now. The whole 
interior of the church is rich in decoration, black and 
w r hite marble predominating, w T ith pictures of the early 
Flemish school filling every available space. Once out 
of the church, we climbed into an ark of a carriage, and 
drove about the city, our little guide standing beside 
the driver, back to the horses most of the time, to 
pour out a torrent of history and romance. A most 
edifying spectacle it would have been anywhere else. 
Do read (Henry Taylor's " Philip von Artevelde '^be- 
fore going to Ghent: the mingled romance ana his- 
tory throw a charm about the place and people which 
bare history can never give. Veritable Yankees these 
old Flemish weavers seem to have been, with a touch 
of the Irish in their composition — always up in arms 
for their rights, and striking out wherever they saw a 
head. There is a new part to the city, with a grand 
opera-house, shaded promenades and palatial dwellings, 
but one cares only for the narrow, dingy streets, and 
the old market squares, in which every stone could 
tell a story. 

We saw the tall, brick watch-tower, where still hangs 
the bell that tolled, — 

" I am Roland, I am Roland! There is victory in the land," 

and the old Hotel de Ville, of conglomerate architec- 
ture, one side of which, in the loveliest flamboyant 
Gothic imaginable, seems crumbling away from its very 
richness. In the Friday-market square — it chancing 
to be Friday — was a score of bustling busybodies, 



WATERLOO AND THROUGH BELGIUM. 131 

swarming like bees. Here, in the old, quarrelsome times, 
battles were fought between the different guilds. I say 
battles, because at one time fifteen hundred were slain 
in this very square. Such a peaceful old square as it 
seemed to be the day of our visit ! the old gray houses, 
that have echoed to the sound of strife, fairly smiling in 
the sunshine, and the market women kneeling upon the 
stones which have run with blood. At one corner rose 
a tower, and half way up its height may still be seen 
the iron rod, over which was hung imperfect linen, to 
shame the weaver who had dared to offer it in the 
market. 

There is a great nunnery here in Ghent — a town 
of itself, surrounded by a moat and a wall, where are 
six hundred or more sisters, from families high and 
low, who tend the sick, weave lace, and mortify the 
flesh in black robes and white veils. When they be- 
come weary of it, they may return to the world, the 
flesh, and — their homes : no vows bind them. We 
drove along the streets past the cell-like houses where 
they dwell. Over the door of each was the name of 
her patron saint. It seemed a quiet retreat, a noiseless 
city, notwithstanding the six hundred women! But 
by far the most interesting sight, because the most 
ancient in the quaint old city, was the archway and 
turret of the old royal castle, erected a thousand years 
ago ; only this gateway remains. Here John o' Gaunt 
was born. Built all round, and joined to it, are houses 
of more recent date, themselves old and tottering, and 
the arch beneath which kings and queens rode once, is 
now the entrance to a cotton factory. • 

We had only a few hours at Bruges — the city once 



132 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

more powerful than Antwerp even, but where not a 
house has been raised for a hundred years, and where 
nearly a third of its inhabitants are paupers. But de- 
cay and dilapidation are strong elements of the pic- 
turesque, and nothing seen that clay was more charm- 
ing than a piece of wall, still standing, belonging to 
the old Charles V.'s palace — honey-combed, black, 
of florid Gothic architecture, rising from the quiet 
waters of the canal. At one end it threw an arch 
over the street, with a latticed window above it, be- 
neath which we passed, after crossing the bridge. 
More than one picture of Bruges rests within my 
memory — its canals spanned by the picturesque 
bridges, and overhung with willows that dipped 
their long branches into the water, and the quaint old 
houses with many-stepped gables, rising sheer from 
the stream. 

But with all its past grandeur, the old city is best 
known to us Americans through the chimes from its 
belfry tower, and we were some of Longfellow's pil- 
grims. We drove into the great paved Place under 
the shadow of the belfry tower when its shadows were 
growing long, and watched the stragglers across the 
square — women in queer black-hooded cloaks ; chubby 
little blue-eyed maidens with school-books in hand ; a 
party of tourists ; and last, but by no means least, the 
ubiquitous American girl, with an immense bow on the 
back of her dress, and her eye fixed steadily upon the 
milliner's shop just visible around the corner. Almost 
three hundred feet the dingy brick tower rose above 
us, with low wings on either side, where were once the 
halls of some guilds, in the days when the tower was 



WATERLOO AND THROUGH BELGIUM. 133 

a lookout to warn of coming foes, — when the square 
w r as planned for defence. In a little court-yard, gained 
by passing under its arch, we watched and listened, 
until at last the sweet tinkle of the silver-toned bells 
broke the hush of waiting — so far away, so heavenly, 
we held our breath, lest we should lose the sound 
that fell 

"Like the psalms from some old cloister when the nuns sing in 
the choir, 
And the great bell tolled among them like the chanting of a 
friar." 

We came back to Antwerp that night, tired, but tri- 
umphant, feeling as though we had read a page from 
an old book, or sung a strain from an old song. 



134 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 



CHAPTER XI. 

A TEIP THROUGH HOLLAND. 

Up the Meuse to Rotterdam. — Dutch sights and ways. — The 
pretty milk-carriers. — The tea-gardens. — Preparations for 
the Sabbath. — An English chapel. — "The Lord's barn." — 
From Rotterdam to the Hague. — The queen's " House in the 
Wood." — Pictures in private drawing-rooms. — The bazaar. — 
An evening in a Dutch tea-garden. — Amsterdam to a stran- 
ger. — The "sights." — Tbe Jews' quarter. — The family 
whose home was upon the canals. — Out of the city. — The 
pilgrims. 

T nine o'clock, the next morning, we left Ant- 
werp for Rotterdam. Two hours by rail brought 
us to a place with an unpronounceable name, ending in 
" djk," where we were to take a steamer. How delight- 
ful, after the dust and heat of the railway carriage, 
were the two hours that followed ! The day was 
charming, the passengers numerous, but scattered 
about the clean, white deck, picturesquely, upon the 
little camp stools, drinking brandy and water as a pre- 
ventive to what seemed impossible, eating fruit, read- 
ing, chatting, or pleased, like ourselves, with the pan- 
orama before their eyes. In and out of the intricate 
passages to the sea we steamed, the land and water all 
around us level as a floor ; the only sign of life the 



A TRIP THROUGH HOLLAND. 13.3 

slow-revolving arms of the windmills, near and far, 
with here and there a solitary mansion shut in by tall 
trees; or, as we wound in and out among the islands 
fringed with green rushes, and waving grasses that fairly 
came out into the water to meet us, and sailed up the 
Meuse, the odd Dutch villages that had turned their 
backs to the river, though their feet were still in the 
water over which hung rude wooden balconies, or still 
ruder bay-windows, filled with pots of flowers. This 
monotonous stretch of sea and land might grow tire- 
some after a while, but there was something peculiarly 
restful in that sail up the wide mouth of the river, 
beckoned on by the solemn arms of the windmills. 

When we reached Rotterdam, how strange it was to 
find, instead of a row of houses across from our hotel, 
a wharf and a row of ships ! Such a great, comfortable 
room as awaited us! with deep, wide arm-chairs, a 
heavy round table suggesting endless teas, and toast 
unlimited, and everything else after the same hearty, 
substantial manner. There was no paper upon the 
walls, but, in its place, paintings upon canvas. Delilah 
sat over the mantel, with the head of the sleeping Sam- 
son in her lap, and Rebekah and the thirsty camels 
were behind our bed curtains. From the wide win- 
dows we watched the loading and unloading of the 
ships, while the song of the sailors came in on the even- 
ing breeze, and with it, we half-fancied, the odor of 
sandal-wood and spices from the East Indiamen an- 
chored across the way. Our hotel was upon the 
Boompjes, the quay that borders the river; but 
through nearly all the streets flow the canals, deep 
enough to float large ships. You can appreciate the 



136 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

advantage of sailing a ship to the very door of one's 
warehouse, as you might drive a cart up to unload ; 
and you can imagine, perhaps, the peculiar appearance 
of the city, with its mingled masts and chimneys, its 
irregular, but by no means picturesque, houses, and 
the inhabitants equally at home upon water or land. 
Among the women of the lower classes may still be 
seen some national peculiarities in dress, shown princi- 
pally in the startling ornaments — twisted gold wire 
horns, and balls, and rings of mammoth size thrust out 
from their caps just above their ears. Whether their 
bare red arms would come under the head of dress, 
might be questioned ; but a national peculiarity they 
certainly were, and unlike anything ever seen before 
in the way of human flesh. Was that painfully deep 
magenta hue nature or art? We could never tell. 
There were some very pretty faces among the girls 
carrying milk about the city in bright brass cans, or in 
pails suspended from a yoke over their shoulders — 
faces of one type, round, red-cheeked, blue-eyed, with 
the mouth called rosebud by poets, and bewitching 
little brown noses of an upward tendency. As they all 
wore clean purple calico gowns, and had each a small 
white cap on their heads, the resemblance among them 
was rather striking. These caps left the whole top of 
the head exposed to the sun. Only an iron-clad, fire- 
proof brain could endure it, I am sure. 

ISTot a beggar did we see anywhere in Holland. 
The people seemed thoroughly industrious and thrifty. 
A gentleman connected with the civil service there — 
an agreeable, cultivated man, who had been half over 
the world, written a book or two, and parted his hair in 



A TRIP THROUGH HOLLAND. 137 

the middle — gave the people credit for all these, with 
many more good qualities, and added, "They are the 
simplest minded people in the world. Why, would you 
believe it, one of the canal bridges was run into and 
broken down, the other day, — a fortnight ago, — and 
it has been town talk ever since. No two men meet 
upon the street without, 'Have you heard about the 
bridge?"' And sure enough, when we reached the 
scene of the accident, in our after-dinner walk through 
the city, quite a crowd was collected to watch the pas- 
sage of a temporary ferry-boat, the simplest contrivance 
imaginable, only an old barge pulled back and forth by 
ropes. Still later we found the entrance to a narrow 
street choked with people, though nothing more unu- 
sual seemed to be taking place than the bringing out 
of a table and a few chairs. 

Upon the outskirts of the city are pleasant tea-gar- 
dens, often attached to club-rooms, where concerts are 
held Sunday evenings, attended by the upper classes. 
We walked through one, over the pebbled paths, and 
among the deserted tables, and then returned to see 
more of the town. It was Saturday night. All the 
little girls upon the street had their locks twisted up 
in papers so tight and fast that they could shut neither 
eyes nor mouth, but seemed to be in a continual state 
of wonderment. All their mothers were down upon 
their hands and knees, scrubbing the doorsteps and 
sidewalk, in preparation for the Sabbath. The streets 
were dirty and uninviting with a few exceptions, yet 
hardly more so than could be expected, when you 
remember that nearly the whole city is a line of 
wharves ; but we felt no disposition to walk through 



138 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

it in our slippers, as the guide-book in praising its 
cleanliness, says you may. What an advantage it 
would be to the world if the compilers of guide- 
books would only visit the places they describe so 
graphically! We spent a quiet Sabbath here — the 
fourth of July — with not so much as a torpedo to dis- 
turb its serenity or mark the day, attending church at 
the English chapel, and joining in the responses led by 
a clear soprano voice behind us, which we had some 
desire to locate ; but when we turned, at the con- 
clusion of the service, there was only a row of horrible 
chignons to be seen, to none of which, I am sure, the 
voice belonged. 

There is nothing to be seen in Rotterdam but its 
shipping. One great, bare church we did visit — " the 
Lord's barn ; " for these cathedrals, stripped of altar, 
and image, and stained glass, and boarded into stiff 
pews, without the least regard to the eternal fitness of 
tilings, are ugly enough. There is somewhere here a 
collection of Ary Scheffer's works, — in the city I mean, 
t— but we did not see it. It is less than an hour's ride 
by rail from Rotterdam to the Hague, with the same 
delightfully monotonous scenery all along the way- — 
meadows smooth and green, and fields white for the 
harvest, separated by the almost invisible canals. No 
Avonder the Spaniards held the Low Countries with a 
grasp of iron — the whole land is a garden. The 
Hague, being the residence of the court, is much after 
the pattern of all continental capitals, with wide, white 
streets, white stuccoed houses of regular and beautiful 
appearance, and fine, large parks and pleasure-grounds 
filled with deer, and shaded by grand old elms as large 



A TRIP THROUGH HOLLAND. 139 

as those in our own land, but lacking the long, sweeping 
branches. A mile from the city is " The House in the 
Wood," the private residence of the queen of the 
Netherlands. The wood is heavy and of funereal air, 
but the little palace is quite charming within, though 
upon the exterior only a plain brick country-house. 
The rooms are small, and hung with rice-paper, or em- 
broidered white satin, with which also much of the 
furniture is covered. The bare floors are of polished 
wood, with a square of carpet in the centre, the border 
of which was worked by hand. " Please step over it," 
said the neat little old woman who was showing us 
through, which we accordingly did. There was a 
home-like air, very unpalatial, about it all, — as though 
the lady of the house might have been entertaining call- 
ers, or having a dress-maker in the next room. Deli- 
cate trinkets were scattered about — pretty, rare things 
worth a fortune, with any amount of old Dutch china 
in the cosy dining-room. In one of the rooms hung 
the portrait of a handsome young man, — just as there 
hang portraits of handsome young men in our houses. 
This was the eldest son of the queen, — heir to the 
throne, — who, rumor says, is still engaged in that ag- 
ricultural pursuit so fascinating to young men — the 
sowing of wild oats. In the next room was a portrait 
of Queen Sophie herself — r a delicate, queenly face — a 
face of character. The walls of the ball-room are en- 
tirely covered with paintings upon wood by Rubens 
and his pupils. " Speak low, if you j^lease," said our 
little old woman ; " the queen is in the next room, and 
she has a bad headache to-day." I am sure she had a 
dress-maker ! As we stooped to examine a rug worked 



140 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

by the royal fingers, an attendant passed, bearing upon 
a silver salver the remains of her majesty's lunch. 

From the palace we drove back to town to visit two 
private collections of paintings. It seemed odd, if not 
impertinent, to walk through the drawing-rooms of 
strangers, criticise their pictures, and fee their servants. 
Upon the table, in one, were thrown down carelessly 
the bonnet and gloves of the lady of the house. I was 
tempted to carry them off. Only a vigorous early 
training, and the thought of a long line of j)ious an- 
cestors, prevented. Here were pictures from most of 
the earlier and some of the later Dutch artists — Paul 
Potter's animals, Jan Steen's pots and pans, Vander- 
velde's quays and luggers, and green, foaming seas, and 
even a touch or two from the brush of the master of 
Dutch art. We stopped on our way back to the hotel, 
at a bazaar, — a place of beguilement, with long rooms 
full of everything beautiful in art, everything tempting 
to the eye, — and after dinner went out to one of the 
adjacent tea-gardens. It was filled with family parties 
drinking tea around little tables. The music was fine, 
though unexpected at times, as, for instance, when a 
trumpet blew a startling blast, and a little man in its 
range sprang from his seat as though blowm out of his 
place. It was amusing and interesting to watch the 
stream of promenaders circling around the musicians' 
stand — broad, heavily-built men, long of body, short 
of limbs ; women " square-rigged," of easy, good- 
natured countenance. I doubt if there was a nerve in 
the whole assembly. 

At noon the next day, we took the train for Amster- 
dam — another two hours' ride. The land began to un- 



A TRIP THROUGH HOLLAND. 141 

dulate as we went towards the sea, with the shifting 
hillocks of sand raised by wind and wave. We passed 
Leyden, famous for its resistance to the Spaniards, as 
well as for having been the birthplace of Rembrandt 
and a score of lesser lights, and Haarlem, known for 
its great organ, and still the sand-hills rose one above 
the other, until they shut out everything beyond. It 
was only when we made a sharp turn, and struck out 
in a straight line for the city, that the Zuyder Zee 
opened before us, the curving line of land along its 
edge alive with windmills. We counted a hundred 
and twenty in sight at one time, and still did not 
exhaust them ; so many skipped and whirled about, and 
refused to be counted. It hardly seems possible that 
the city of Amsterdam is built upon piles driven into 
the sand and mud. Certainly, when you have been 
jolted and shaken until your teeth chatter, for a long 
mile, in one of the hotel omnibuses from the station 
through the narrow streets and over the rough pave- 
ments, you will, think there must be a tolerably firm 
foundation. Such a peaceful, sleepy, free-from-d anger 
air, these slimy canals give to the cities! You forget 
that just beyond the dikes the mighty, restless sea 
lurks, and watches day and night for a chance to rush 
in and claim its own. The canals run in a succession 
of curves, one within the other, all through the city. 
Upon the quays are the dwellings and warehouses. In 
the narrow streets, crossing them by means of end- 
less bridges, are the shops and dwellings of the lower 
classes. Looking down a street, no two houses present 
an unbroken line. Tluey have all settled in their places 
until they nod, and leer, and wink at each other, in a 



142 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

decidedly sociable, intoxicated manner. The whole 
city, to a stranger, is a curious sight — the arched 
bridges over the interminable canals ; the clumsy boats 
•(for the canals are too shallow to admit anything but 
coasters and river boats) ; the antic and antiquated 
houses with high gables, rising in steps, to the street ; 
the women of the lower classes, with yokes over their 
shoulders, and long-eared white caps on their heads, 
surmounted by naked straw bonnets of obsolete fash- 
ion and coal-scuttle shape, and out and from which, on 
either side, protruded all the wonderful tinkling orna- 
ments of which the prophet speaks ; the long quays 
and streets utterly bare of trees ; the iron rods thrust 
out from the houses half way up their height, upon 
which all manner of garments, freshly washed, hang 
over the street to dry. Down in an open Place stands 
the dark, square palace, grand and grim, where Hor- 
tense played queen a little time while Louis Bona- 
parte was king of Holland. Near the palace is a 
national monument, for the Dutch, too, remember their 
brave. There are old and new churches also to be 
seen, but churches bare of everything which clothes ca- 
thedrals with beauty, having been stripped in the time 
of the reformation. I suppose one should rejoice; but 
we did miss the high altar, the old carved saints, and 
the pictures in the chapels. 

Some of the finest paintings of the Dutch school are 
in the national museum here ; genre pictures, many, if 
not most of them, but pleasant to look at, if not of the 
highest art ; and we visited another collection of the 
same, left by a M. Van der Hoop. There are several 
other private collections thrown open to the public. 



A TRIP THROUGH HOLLAND. 143 

But after all, the most charming picture was the Jews 1 
quarter of the city. I know it was horribly filthy, and 
so crowded that we could hardly make our way; 
I know it was filled with squalor and rags, and great 
dark eyes, and breathed an odor by no means of sanc- 
tity. The dusky, luminous-eyed people seemed to 
move, and breathe, and hold a constant bazaar in the 
lane-like streets filled with everything known and un- 
known in merchandise, or leaning out from the windows 
of the tottering houses, their arms crossed over the 
sill, to dream away a lifetime. Still there was a fasci- 
nation about it all, a suggestion of vagabondism, of 
Ishmaelitish wanderings, of having " here no continu- 
ing city," that touched the heart of a certain Methodist 
minister's daughter in our party. 

Sometimes the houses rise directly from the water, 
as did our hotel, the entrance being gained from 
another street in front. Our room was like a town 
hall, with mediaeval bed furniture and sofa, high chest 
of drawers, and great round table that might have 
come in with the Dutch when they took Holland. The 
deep windows looked down upon a canal. Across from 
them, anchored to the quay as if for a lifetime, was 
one of the river boats. Early in the morning the wife 
of the skipper — a square woman, brown-faced, with 
faded, braided hair — ran out bareheaded into the 
town, coming back with her arms mysteriously full. 
Down into the cabin she disappeared, from whence di- 
rectly came a sound of sputtering and frying, with a 
most savory odor. Up she would come again — frying 
pan in hand to corroborate her statement — to call her 
husband to breakfast. He was never ready to respond, 



144 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

never, though he was doing nothing to support his en- 
ergetic family at the time, but coiling and uncoiling 
old ropes, or rubbing at invisible spots with a handful 
of rope-yarn. I know he only delayed to add to his 
own dignity and the importance of his final advent. 
Breakfast over, there followed such a commotion in the 
little world as I cannot describe — a shaking out of 
garments, a scraping out of plates, and throwing into 
the canal the refuse of the feast, a flying up with pots 
and pans for no object whatever but to clatter down 
again with the same, and all in the face and eyes of 
the town, with nevertheless the most absorbed and un- 
conscious air imaginable. When it w T as over, some- 
w T hat red in the face, but serene, the wife would appear 
upon the deck, to sit in the shadow of a sail and mend 
her husband's stockings, or put on a needed patch. 
We left the boat still fast to the quay; but I know 
that some day, when it was filled with scented oils, and 
rouge, and borax, and all the other things exported from 
the manufactories here, our skipper and his wife went 
sailing out of the canals and along the edge of the sea 
or up the Rhine, the stockings all mended, and the 
good woman not above giving a strong pull at the 
ropes. 

To drive about the streets of Amsterdam is slow 
torture, so rough are the pavings, so springless the car- 
riages ; but to roll along the smooth, wide roads in the 
suburbs is delightful. Upon one side is a canal, stag- 
nant, lifeless, with a green weed growing upon its still 
surface, which often for a long distance entirely hides 
the w r ater ; beyond the canal are pleasant little gardens 
and a row of low, comfortable-looking wooden houses 



A TRIP THROUGH HOLLAND. 145 

with green doors. Before each door is a narrow bridge 
— a neatly-painted plank with hand-rails — thrown 
over the canal, to be swung around or raised like a 
drawbridge at night, making every man's house a 
moated castle. We passed a fine zoological garden 
here upon the outskirts of the city, a garden of animals 
that ranks next to the famous one in London ; but had 
no time to visit it, nor did we see any of the charitable 
institutions in which Amsterdam excels. 

"You know the pilgrim fathers?" said Emmie — 
whose family had preceded us by a day or two — the 
night after our arrival. " O, yes ; had not our whole lives 
been straightened out after their maxims?" "Well, 
we've found the house where it is said they held meet- 
ings before they embarked for America. Wouldn't you 
like to see it ? " Of course we would ; in fact, it would 
be showing no more than proper respect to our fore- 
fathers. So six of us — women and girls — put our- 
selves under her guidance. We found a narrow, dirty 
street, the dwellers in which stared after us curiously. 
Between two old houses was an opening, hardly wide 
enough to be called an alley, hardly narrow enough to 
be looked upon as a gutter. Into this we crowded. 
" There ; this is the house," said Emmie, laying her 
slight fingers upon the old stone wall before us. It was 
quite bare, and devoid of ornament or entrance, being 
evidently the back or side of a house. Down from the 
peak of the gable looked a solitary window. A rude 
balcony, holding a few plants, was below it, with 
freshly-washed clothes hanging from its rail. We 
rolled our eyes, experienced a shiver that may have 
been caused by awe or the damp chill of the spot, and 
10 



146 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

came out to find the narrow street half filled with star- 
ing men and women crowding about the point of our 
disappearance, while from the upper end of the street, 
and even around the corner, others hastened to join the 
whispering, wondering crowd. How could we explain ? 
It was utterly impossible ; so we came quickly and 
quietly away ; but whether this house had ever been a 
church, whether the pilgrim fathers ever saw it, or in- 
deed whether there ever were any pilgrim fathers, are 
questions I cannot undertake to answer. 



THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 147 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 

First glimpse of the Rhine. — Cologne and the Cathedral. — 
" Shosef in ter red coat." — St. Ursula and the eleven thou- 
sand virgins. — Up the Rhine to Bonn. — The German stu- 
dents. — Rolandseck. — A search for a resting-place. — Our 
Dutch friend and his Malays. — The story of Hildegund. — 
A quiet Sabbath. — Our Dutch friend's reply. — Coblentz. — 
The bridge of boats. — Ehrenbreitstein, over the river. — A 
scorching day upon the Rhine. — -Romance under difficulties. 

— Mayence. — Frankfort. — Heidelberg. — The ruined castle. 

— Baden-Baden. — A glimpse at the gambling. — The new, 
and the old " Schloss." — The Black Forest. — Strasbourg. — 
The mountains. 

WE had made a sweep through Belgium and Hol- 
land, intending to return by way of the Rhine 
and Switzerland. Accordingly, in leaving Amsterdam, 
we struck across the country to Arnhem, where we 
found a pleasant hotel near the station, outside of the 
town. Here we spent the night in order to break the 
monotony of the ride to Cologne. After climbing stairs 
to gain our room, wide, but so perpendicular that we 
were really afraid to descend by them, we had, from a 
rickety, upper piazza, our first glimpse of the Rhine, 
winding through flat, green meadows, with hardly 
more than a suggestion of hills in the distance. There 



148 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

is nothing of interest to detain one at Arnhem. The 
guide-book informed us that it was the scene of Sir 
Philip Sidney's death ; but no one in the hotel seemed 
ever to have heard of that gentle knight — sans peur 
et sans reproche. 

We reached Cologne at noon the next day. The 
road makes a detour through the plain, so that, for 
some time before gaining it, we could see the city 
nestling under the wings of the great cathedral. How 
can I tell you anything about it ? If I say that it is 
five times the length of any church you know, and that 
the towers, when completed, are to be the same height 
as the length, will my words bring to you any con- 
ception of its size ? If I say that it was partially built 
a couple of centuries before the discovery of America; 
that it was worked upon for three hundred years, and 
then suffered to remain untouched until recently ; that 
the architect who planned it has been forgotten for 
centuries, so that the idea embodied in its form is like 
some beautiful old tradition, whose origin is unknown, 
— will this give you any idea of its age ? The new 
part, seen from our hotel, was so white and beautiful, 
that, when we had passed around to the farther side, 
it was like waking from a sleep of a thousand years. 
The blackened, broken Gothic front told its own story 
of age and decay. Ah, the interminable dusky length 
of its interior, when we had crept within the doors ! 
It was a very world in itself, full of voices, and echoes, 
and shadows of its own. We followed the guide over 
the rough stone floor, giving no heed to the tiresome 
details that fell in broken words and monotonous tones 
from his lips. I recall nothing now but the fact ( ! ) 



THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 149 

that behind the choir lie buried, in all their magnifi- 
cence, the Three Wise Men of the East. As we came 
down one of the shadowy aisles, we paused before a 
fine, old, stained window. Our guide immediately be- 
came prolix again. " Dis," he said, pointing to one of 
the figures upon the glass, " is Shosef, in ter red coat ; 
and dis is Shon ter Baptised ; and dis, ter Holy Ghos' 
in ter form off a duff." 

When the old woman at the door offered pictures 
of the cathedral, he assured us that they were quite 
correct, having been taken "from nature, outzide and 
inzide" 

You must see the old Roman remains of towers 
and crumbling walls, sniff the vile odors of the streets, 
which have become proverbial, and be sprinkled with 
cologne — then your duty to the city is done. But 
almost everybody visits the Church of St. Ursula, which 
is lined with the skulls of that unfortunate young wo- 
man and her eleven thousand virgin followers. 

The story is, that she was an English princess, who 
lived — nobody knows at what remote period of an- 
tiquity. For some reason equally obscure, she started 
with her lover and eleven thousand maidens to make 
a pilgrimage to Rome. Fancy this lover undertaking 
a continental tour with eleven thousand and one young 
women under his care! Even modern travel presents 
no analogy to the case. "And they staid over night 
at my aunt's," droned the sleepy guide, who was telling 
the story. The girls looked at each other. " Good 
gracious ! what unbounded hospitality ! " whispered 
one. " At his client's ! " exclaimed a second, somewhat 
puzzled by the anachronism. " Don't interrupt," said 



150 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

a third interested listener ; he means Mayence ; " and 
he proceeded with the narrative. They accomplished 
their pilgrimage in safety ; but, upon their return, were 
"fetched up py ter parparians," as the guide expressed 
it, which means, in English, that they were murdered, 
here at Cologne. If you doubt the story, behold the 
skulls ! We turned suddenly upon the guide. 

" Do you believe this ? " 

" I mus ; sinz I tells it to you," was his enigmatical 
reply, dropping his eyes. 

The scenery along the Rhine from Cologne, for 
twenty miles, is uninteresting; just now, too, the 
weather was uncomfortably hot, and we were glad to 
leave the steamer for a few hours at Bonn. Upon the 
balcony of a hotel, looking out upon the river, we found 
a score of young men in bright-colored caps — students 
from the university here. When dinner was announced, 
they crowded in and filled the table, at which the ladies 
of our party were the only ones present. Such a noisy, 
loud-talking set as they were ! When each one had 
dined, he coolly leaned back in his chair, and lighted his 
pipe ! Before we had finished our almonds and raisins 
the room was quite beclouded. Then they adjourned 
with pipe and wine-glass to the balcony again, where 
we left them when we went out to see the town. 

The university was formerly a palace, the guide-book 
had told us; but all our childish conceptions of palaces 
had been rudely destroyed before now, so that we were 
not surprised to find it without any especial beauty of 
architecture — only a pile of brown stone, three quar- 
ters of a mile long. I think we had left all the stu- 
dents drinking wine upon the balcony, for we saw none 



THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 151 

here, — though we went through the library, museum, 
and various halls, — except one party outside, who 
stared unblushingly at the girls remaining in the car- 
riage. 

Somewhere in the town we found a lovely old min- 
ster, through the aisles of which we wandered for a while, 
happy in having no guide and knowing nothing what- 
ever about it. Outside, in a little park, was a statue 
of Beethoven, and in a quiet street near the water the 
musical girls of our party found the house where he 
was born. In the cool of the day we took another 
steamer, and went on towards the beckoning hills, at 
nightfall reaching Rolandseck. There was no town in 
sight, only a pier and three quiet hotels upon the bank, 
with a narrow road between their gardens and the 
water. We chose the one farthest away, and were 
rowed down to it, dabbling our hands in the water, and 
saying over and over again, "It is the Hhine/" 

But the hotel was full ; so we filled our arms with 
luggage, and walked back, up the dusty road to the 
second. A complacent waiter stood in the doorway, 
with nothing of that hungry, eager air about him 
which betokens an empty house ; cool, comfortable- 
looking tourists, in enviable, fresh toilets, stared at us 
from the windows; a pretty German girl upon the 
balcony overhead was sketching the river and the 
Seven Mountains just below, uttering little womanly 
exclamations at times, ending in " ach " and " ich." 
After some delay, four single rooms were offered us ; 
our party numbered twelve ; we left a portion of our 
company here ; the others went on — to the pier where 
we had landed, in fact, and with all meekness and hu- 



152 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

mility sued for accommodations of the little hotel here, 
which we had at first looked upon with disdain. Fortu- 
nately, we were not refused. 

When we came down the next morning, the sole oc- 
cupant of the piazza opening upon the garden — where 
our breakfast was spread — was a stout, red-faced 
gentleman of general sleek appearance, who smiled a 
courteous " good morning." He proved to be a Dutch- 
man from Rotterdam, who had in charge a couple of 
Malay youths sent to Holland to be educated — bright- 
faced boys, with straight, blue-black hair, olive com- 
plexions, and eyes like velvet. They were below us, 
walking in the garden now. 

"We have but just come from Holland," we said, 
after some conversation; and, with a desire to be soci- 
able, added that it was a very charming, garden-like 
little (!) country. (O dreadful American spirit ! ) 

He smiled, showing his gums above his short teeth, 
and with a kind of enraged humility replied, — 

" It is nothing." 

"It is indeed wonderful," we went on, trying to im- 
prove upon our former attempt, and quoting a senti- 
ment from the guide-book, "how your people have 
rescued the land from the clutch of the sea ! " 

But his only reply was the same smile, and the 
"Yes?" so fatal to sentiment. 

" We visited your queen's ' House in the Wood,' " 
we ventured, presently. " Is it true that the domestic 
relations of the royal family are so unhappy?" 

" O, the king and the queen are most happy," he re- 
plied. " You may always be sure that when he is in 
town she will be in the country." 



THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 153 

This was a phase of domestic bliss so new to us that 
we were fain to consider it for a moment. Various 
other attempts we made at gaining information, with 
equally questionable success. Our Dutch acquaint- 
ance, though disposed to conversation, avoided the 
topic of his own country. Still he sought our society 
persistently, asking at dinner that his plate might be laid 
at the same table. Our vanity was considerably flat- 
tered, until he chanced to remark that he embraced 
every opportunity of conversing with English and 
American travellers, it did so improve his English. 
From that time we found him tiresome. Think of be- 
ing used as an exercise-book! 

It is here at Rolandseck that the romance of the 
Rhine, as well as its world-renowned scenery, com- 
mences. Across the river is the Drachenfels — the 
crag upon which the remains of a castle may still be 
seen, where, " in the most ancient time," dwelt Hilde- 
gund, a maiden beautiful as those of all stories, and 
beloved by Roland, a nephew of Charlemagne. When 
he went away to the wars, she waited and watched at 
home — as other maidens have done; but alas! in- 
stead of her lover, came after a time only the news of 
his death. Then Hildegund laid aside her gay attire 
and happy heart, with her hopes, and leaving her 
father's castle, came down to bury her young life in 
the nunnery upon the island at its foot. But the 
rumor was false; and in time Roland returned, only 
to find himself too late, for Hildegund was bound by 
vows which could not be broken. Then, upon the 
rock called now Rolandseck, the unhappy lover built 
a castle opposite the Drachenfels and overlooking the 



154 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

Island of Nonnenworth. Here he could watch the 
nuns as they walked in the convent garden, and per- 
haps among them distinguish the form of Hildegund. 
. On our way down from the arch, which, with a few 
crumbling stones is all that remains now of Roland's 
castle, we passed through one of the vineyards for 
which the banks of this river are so noted. Do you 
imagine them to be picturesque ? They are almost ugly. 
The vines are planted in regular order and pruned 
closely. They are not suffered to grow above three feet 
in height, and each one is fastened to a stout stake until 
the wood itself becomes self-supporting. 

We spent a quiet Sabbath at Rolandseck. There 
was no church, no church service at either of the 
hotels. We rested and wrote letters, sitting in the 
grape arbors of the garden; only a low hedge and 
narrow, grass-grown road between us and the river. 
Down below, the rocks and the island shut out the 
world ; across, the hills rose to the sky, their slopes 
covered with yellow grain, or dotted with red-roofed 
farm-houses, while tiny villages had curled up and 
gone to sleep at their feet. It was impossible to write. 
The breeze that rippled the yellow water blew away 
our paper and our thoughts ; and when the steamer, 
puffing, and evidently breathless from stemming the 
current, touched at the little pier, we left everything 
and ran out to see the passengers disembark. A band 
played at the railroad station just above our hotel, and 
the park attached to it swarmed with excursionists 
during the afternoon. At dusk, when they had all 
gone, we wandered up the magnificent road which 
follows the course of the river ; built originally by the 



THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 155 

Romans, and said to extend for a long distance — five 
hundred miles or more — into Germany, returning 
with our hands full of wild flowers. When we went 
on board the steamer, Monday morning, we were close- 
ly followed by our Dutch friend and his Malays. They 
strolled off by themselves, as they seemed always to 
do; he joined our group under the awning spread over 
the deck. An English tourist seized upon him im- 
mediately, and when he had disclosed his nationality, 
proceeded with a glance towards us, to quiz him upon 
Dutch ways. 

" Now, really," said the tourist, tilting back against 
the rail in his camp chair, " how dreadful it must be to 
live in a country where there are no mountains ! noth- 
ing but a stretch of flat land, you know. I fancy it 
would be unendurable." 

"Yes?" was the Dutchman's sole response. 

" You still keep up your peculiar customs, I observe 
from Murray," the Englishman went on, loftily. " Your 
women carry the same old foot-stoves to church, I fan- 
cy. They hang up, you know, in every house." 

" Ah ! " and the Dutchman only smiled that same in- 
comprehensible smile that had so puzzled us. 

"And you smoke constantly," continued the in- 
quisitor, growing dogmatic ; " a pipe is seldom out of 
your mouths. Really, you are a nation of perpetual 
smokers." 

"Yes," assented the Dutchman; "but then — " and 
here his eyes, and indeed his whole round, rosy face 
twinkled with irresistible humor, " you know we have 
no mountains." 

A shout went up from the listeners, and our English 



156 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

acquaintance became at once intensely interested in 
the scenery. 

The sail of half an hour to Coblentz was a continual 
delight. The rocky mountains rose abruptly from the 
water, terraced to their peaks with vineyards, or stood 
back to give place to modest towns and villages that 
dipped their skirts in the stream. At their wharves 
we touched for a moment, to make an exchange of 
passengers or baggage. Often from the lesser villages 
a boat shot out, the oars held by a brown-armed maid- 
en, who boarded us to take, perhaps, a single box or 
bale, or, it might be, some bearded tourist with sketch- 
book under his arm. The passengers walked the deck, 
or gathered in groups to eat ices and drink the wines 
made from the grapes grown in these vineyards, with 
the pictured maps of the river spread out upon their 
laps, and the ubiquitous Murray in their hands. 

As we neared Coblentz the villages increased as the 
hills vanished. Each had its point of interest, or 
monkish legend — the palace of a duke, a bit of 
crumbling Roman wall rising from the water — some- 
thing to invest it with a charm. One — Neuwied — 
is noted for holding harmoniously within its limits, 
Jews, Moravians, Anabaptists, and Catholics. The Mil- 
lennium will doubtless begin at Neuwied. 

At Coblentz we remained a day, in order to visit 
the fortress of Ehrenbreitstein. From our windows 
at the hotel we could look directly across to this grim 
giant of rock, as well as down upon the bridge of boats 
which crosses the Rhine here. It was endless amuse- 
ment to watch the approach of the steamers, when, as 
if impelled by invisible boatmen, a part of the bridge 




"At the word of command they struck the most extraordinary attitudes." 

Page 157. 



THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 157 

would swing slowly round to make an opening, while 
the crowd of soldiers, market-women, and towns-people, 
waiting impatiently, furnished a constant and interest- 
ing study. 

An hour or two after noon we too crossed the 
bridge in an open carriage, nearly overcome by the 
stifling heat, and after passing through the village 
of Ehrenbreitstein, ascended the winding road — 
a steep ascent, leading under great arches of solid 
masonry, through massive gateways, and shut in by 
the rock which forms the fortress. At various points, 
guards of Prussian soldiers, as immovable as the stone 
under their feet, were stationed. Suddenly in the gloomy 
silence, as we toiled slowly up, echoed a sharp tramp, 
tramp, and a line of soldiers filed by in grim silence, 
each one with a couple of loaves of bread slung by a 
cord over his shoulder. In a moment another line fol- 
lowed with a quantity of iron bedsteads, each borne 
solemnly upon the shoulders of four men. The guards 
accompanying them were armed, and wore queer, shin- 
ing helmets. Still another company came swinging 
down to meet us, with fixed, imperturbable counte- 
nances, each bearing a towel in one hand, with military 
precision. They were on their way to the bathing- 
house upon the bridge. 

Scattered about upon the broad esplanade at the 
summit, or rather arranged in lines upon the breezy, 
grass-grown space, were squads of recruits being drilled. 
At the word of command, they struck the most extraor- 
dinary attitudes. Taking a tremendous stride, they 
endeavored to poise themselves on one foot, while they 
threw the other leg straight out behind into the air. 



158 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

Being of all sizes, forms, and degrees of grace in move- 
ment, the effect, to say the least, was surprising ; es- 
pecially as the most intense silence and seriousness 
• prevailed. A second stride and fling followed, then a 
third, when a pert young officer, of the bantam species, 
seized a gun, and strutting to the front, proceeded to 
illustrate the idea more perfectly. At this point our 
gravity gave way. 

A young sergeant, with a stupid but good-natured 
face, attached himself to us in the capacity of guide. 
He could speak nothing but German, of which not one 
of us understood a word. We followed him from point 
to point, politely attending to all his elaborate explana- 
tions, and were surprised to find how many ideas we 
had finally gained by means of the patient and pain- 
ful pantomimic accompaniment to his words. 

The view from the summit is wonderfully extensive. 
All the kingdoms of the earth and the glory of them 
seemed spread out at our feet ; and our fat little guide 
grew fairly red in the face in his efforts to make us com- 
prehend the names of the various points of interest. 

When we returned to the carriage the animated 
jumping-Jacks were still engaged in their remarkable 
evolutions ; and as we came down we had a last glimpse 
of our Dutch friend and his Malays, who were making 
the ascent on foot. 

The next day, though passed upon the beautiful 
river, was a day of torment. The stream narrowed ; 
the frowning rocks closed in upon us, shutting out 
every breath of air ; the sun beat down upon the 
water and the low awning over our heads with fiery 
fury; in a moment of idiocy we answered the call 



THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 159 

to table cPhote, which was served upon deck with a 
refinement of imbecility just as the climax of the strik- 
ing scenery approached. For one mortal hour we 
were wedged in at that table, peering between heads 
and under the awning which cut off every peak, making 
frantic attempts to turn in our places, as parties across 
the table exclaimed over the scenery behind us, and 
consoling ourselves with reading up the legends in the 
guide-book held open by the rim of our soup-plates, — 
of the Seven Sisters, for instance, who were turned into 
seven stones which stand in the stream to this day, be- 
cause they refused to smile upon their lovers (fortu- 
nately for navigation, maidens in these days are less 
obdurate) ; of the bishop who shut his starving peasants 
into his barn and set fire to it, though his granaries 
were full, and who, in poetic justice, was afterwards 
devoured by rats; of the Lurlei siren, who lured men 
to destruction, and became historical from the indi- 
viduality of the case ; of various maidens bereft of 
lovers by cruel fathers, and of various lovers bereft of 
maidens by cruel fate, <fcc, while storied ruins crowned 
the crags on every hand, always half hidden under a 
weight of ivy, and often indistinguishable from the 
rock on which they seemed to have grown. 

At Bingen, which is not especially "fair" from the 
river, the precipices drop away, the stream spreads out 
in nearly twice its former width, and is dotted with 
islands. At Mayence you may leave the steamer ; the 
beauties of the Rhine are passed. 

From Mayence we made an excursion to Wiesbaden ; 
then on to Frankfort-on-the-Maine, to rest only a few 
hours, doing the city hastily and imperfectly ; and finally 



160 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

reached Heidelberg at night, in time for table d'hote. A 
talkative young Irishman sat beside ns at the table, who 
spoke five or six languages " with different degrees of 
badness," he informed us ; had travelled half the world 
over, but held in reserve the pleasure of visiting America. 

"I have a friend there," he added, "though he is in 
South America." 

"Ah?" 

"Yes; at Mobile" he replied. "He held some office 
under government for a number of years, but during 
your recent war — for some reason which I do not 
understand — he seems to have lost it." 

It did not seem so inexplicable to us. 

Our conception of Heidelberg had been most im- 
perfect. We knew simply that it held a university 
and a ruin. The former did not especially attract us, 
and we were sated with ruins. So, when we took pos- 
session of our lovely room, — a charming salon, con- 
verted temporarily into a bedroom, — it was with a 
kind of listless indifference that we stepped out upon 
the balcony before the window. And, behold ! down 
below, an old, paved square, walled in by delightfully 
dingy old houses ; a stone fountain ; a string of waiting 
landaus (for Landau itself is near by), with scarlet 
linings to their tops — giving a bit of color to the pic- 
ture ; a party of German students crossing the square, 
wearing the caps of different colors to betoken different 
societies or clubs, and almost every one with a scarred 
cheek or suggestive patch upon his nose; and, lastly, 
on the right hand, and so precipitous as almost to over- 
hang the square, a hill crowned with the castle, grand, 
though in ruins, which nature vainly tries to conceal. 



THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 161 

There are ruins, and ruins. Except the Alhambra, in 
Spain, none in the world equal these. 

What this castle must have been in the days of its 
glory, when it was the residence of a court, we could 
only faintly imagine. It is of red sandstone, and was a 
succession of palaces, built to enclose a square, or great 
court-yard, each of entirely different architecture and 
design, the fagade of one being covered with statues, 
another having pointed gables, &c; all having been 
erected at periods fifty or a hundred years remote from 
each other. At each corner were watch-towers to 
apprise of coming foes. You may still ascend the 
winding stairs of one, though the steps have been hol- 
lowed into bowls by dripping rain and mounting feet. 
Between these towers, upon one side, and on the verge 
of the hill, still remains the grand stone terrace, — where 
a hundred couples might j^romenade in solitude on 
moonlight evenings, — with summer-houses at each end ; 
and beautiful gardens are still connected with the ruins. 
For all these palaces are in ruins. A few habitable 
rooms only remain among them all. Several sieges, and 
partial demolition at times, the castle suffered, and at 
last, a hundred years ago, lightning completed the 
work, since which time no efforts at restoration have 
been made. 

The whole is overgrown with ivy, and embowered 
in shrubbery. Great trees spread their branches in 
the midst of the walls that still remain standing, and 
crumbling earth and drifting dust have filled many 
parts, even up to the broken window ledges of the sec- 
ond story. Across the broad stone steps leading to 
one of these palaces, tangled vines disputed right of 
11 



162 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

way, and a neglected cherry-tree had scattered with 
wanton hand its over-ripe fruitage. Thrust through a 
casement was an ivy that might have vied with many 
of the trees around in the size of its trunk, and no artis- 
tic hand could have trailed its creepers with the grace 
Nature alone had displayed. 

There was a grand banqueting-hall, with the blue 
heavens for a ceiling overhead. There was a drawing- 
room, the floor long since crumbled away, and only 
the broken walls remaining. Standing upon the loose 
earth, you may see the blackened fireplace far above 
your head, before which fair faces grew rosy centuries 
ago, and where white hands were outspread that have 
been dust and mould for ages. There was — But 
words cannot describe it, though I should speak of 
the winding ways like a labyrinth beneath it all ; of 
the queer paved court-yard, from whence the knights 
sallied out in the olden time ; of the great tower, split 
in twain by an explosion during the last siege ; of the 
wine-cellars and the "Great Tun," upon which the 
servants of the castle danced when the vintage was 
gathered. In all attempts at word-painting there re- 
mains something that defies description, that will not 
be portrayed by language. And, alas ! in that the 
charm lies. 

We turned away from it with regret. One might 
linger here for days ; but we had little time for 
dreaming. 

The road from Heidelberg to Baden-Baden led 
through a charming country : indeed, we ceased to ex- 
claim after a time over the cultivation of the land. So 
far as we saw it, the whole of Europe was a market- 



THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 163 

garden, with prize meadows interspersed. Not a foot 
of neglected or carelessly-tilled ground did we see 
anywhere. 

We chanced to spend the Sabbath in this most un- 
Sabbath-like city of Baden-Baden. But so far as we 
knew to the contrary, it might have been a Puritan 
village. There was a little English chapel out in the 
fields beyond the city, where morning service was held, 
and our windows, overlooking a quiet square, told noth- 
ing of the gayeties of the town. It is an interesting 
old city in itself, built upon a side hill, full of unexpected 
stone steps leading from one street to another, and by 
and crooked ways, that were my especial delight. It 
being just now "the season," the town was full of 
visitors. The hot springs are of course the nominal 
attraction ; the shops, parks, and new parts of the city, 
fine ; but, after all, the interest centres at the Kursaal, 
or Conversation-haus. It is a great white structure, 
with a colonnade where it fronts an open square, and 
contains reading-rooms, cafes, a grand ball-room, and 
the gambling salons. Government has at length inter- 
fered, and these last, hired by companies paying a cer- 
tain sum for the privilege of beguiling and beggaring 
visitors, were to be closed now in two years, I think, or 
less. In front of the Kursaal a band plays every after- 
noon ; the colonnade and square are thronged with 
people promenading or occupying the chairs placed 
there, eating ices, drinking wine, and enjoying the fine 
music, but all perfectly quiet in manner and plain of 
dress. No one was gaudily or even strikingly attired. 
The Hanoverian women were the most marked for their 
queer head-dresses, consisting of an enormous bow and 



164 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

ends of wide, black ribbon perched upon their crowns, 
and giving their heads a peculiar, bat-like appearance. 
And in this connection I might say that national pecu- 
liarities in dress are seldom met with in the ordinary 
course of continental travel. They still exist to some 
extent among the lower classes, and are often assumed 
and perpetuated to attract the attention of travellers; 
but ordinarily you will find people whom you meet 
anywhere and everywhere to be costumed much alike. 
Paris fashions, with modifications (and in America with 
intensifications), have prevailed universally, until there 
are few outward dissimilarities to be observed among 
the people of different nationalities. .Nothing strikes 
the attention of the traveller more than this universal 
homogeneousness; and not in dress alone. In Bruges, 
under the shadow of the belfry tower, little girls trot 
off to school in water-proofs, just as they do at home 
with us; and at the entrance to Stirling Castle, we 
passed a sturdy little boy with his hands in his pockets, 
whistling, " Not for Jo," exactly like other sturdy little 
boys we know at home. 

But to return to Baden-Baden. 

We almost fancied a sulphurous odor hung about 
the gambling salons. Not a footfall echoed upon the 
softly-carpeted floors as we entered. The most breath- 
less silence hung over everything. In the centre, a 
crowd, three in depth at least, surrounded and hid the 
table covered with green cloth, before which sat the 
croupier, with a kind of little rake in his hand. In our 
eyes he was the incarnation of evil, though to unpreju- 
diced vision he would appear simply a well-dressed — 
not flashily-arrayed — gentleman, of a rather intellec- 



THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 165 

tual countenance, who might have passed upon the 
street as a lawyer in good practice, or possibly a 
doctor somewhat overworked. 

One after another of the bystanders covered the 
figures stamped upon the table with gold or silver. 
The ball in the centre, spinning in its circle, fell into a 
pocket with a " click." The croupier called the win- 
ning number I think (though confessing that the game 
is a hidden mystery). That quick, sharp utterance was 
the only sound breaking the silence. At the same time, 
with wonderful dexterity, he raked the money into a 
pile, and pushed it towards the winner, or, more 
frequently, added it to the pile before himself. 

I looked in vain for any exhibition of excitement or 
anxiety among the players sitting or standing around 
the table. All were serious, silent; some few absorbed. 
Both sexes were equally represented, and old as well 
as young. Beside us w T as standing a woman with a 
worn, though still fine face, unobtrusive in dress and 
manner; a traveller and spectator, I judged, like our- 
selves. It was something of a surprise, not to say a 
shock, to see her suddenly stretch out her hand, and 
lay down a handful of gold pieces, selecting the num- 
bers with an air that proved her to be no novice. 
" Click," fell the ball. The croupier, with a sweep of 
the rake, gathered up her Napoleons. The bank had 
won. Again she laid down her gold, placing each 
piece with thoughtful deliberation. Again they were 
swept away; and even the third time. She made no 
exclamation. She did not so much as raise her eyes 
from the table as she prepared to make a fourth at- 
tempt. There w r as no change in her face, except a 



166 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

certain fixedness which came over it, and a faint tinge 
of color rising in her cheeks. 

We breathed more freely when we had gained the 
open air. I am sure there was an odor of sulphur 
about the place. 

The scenery around Baden-Baden is striking and 
wild. Gloomy valleys abound, and dark forests cover 
many of the hills. We took a kind of wagonet one' 
morning, and climbed the mountain behind the city, 
passing what is known as the " New Schloss," or castle, 
before leaving its limits. It is anything but neio, how- 
ever, having been erected some four or five hundred 
years. Its horrible dungeons, where all manner of 
torments were inflicted, and tortures suffered by the 
unfortunate wretches incarcerated here, attract scores 
of visitors. We went on, by the zigzag road up the 
mountain, to the Old Schloss upon its summit. This 
was the residence of the reigning family of Baden be- 
fore the erection of the "New Schloss. Hardly any- 
thing remains of it now but the walls of a square tower, 
from the battlements of which, by mounting to an 
encircling gallery, you may obtain a view well worth 
the effort. As far as the eye can see in one direction, 
extends the Black Forest — the very name of which 
brings to mind elfish legends innumerable. But, 
though our way led along its edge, so that we were 
shut in by the chill and gloom of the evergreens which 
give it its name, we saw neither elves nor gnomes, nor 
the traditional " wood-cutter, named Hans, who lived 
upon the borders of the Black Forest," about whom we 
used to read when we were children. 

From Baden-Baden we took the railroad, following 



THE RHINE AND RHENISH PRUSSIA. 167 

the course of the Rhine to Strasbourg, spending only a 
night here, in order to visit the beautiful cathedral; 
then on to Lucerne, waiting an hour or two to break 
the long day's ride, at Basle. Here the mountains 
began to grow before our eyes. We shot through 
tunnel after tunnel, cut in the solid rock, and suddenly 
sweeping around a curve, the everlasting hills wrapped 
in perpetual snows, greeted our astonished sight. We 
had reached the Mecca of our hopes at last. 



168 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 

The Lake of Lucerne. — Days of rest in the city. — An excur- 
sion up the Righi. — The crowd at the summit. — Dinner at 
midnight. — Rising before "the early worm." — The "sun- 
rise " according to Murray. — Animated scarecrows. — Off 
for a tour through Switzerland. — The lake for the last time. 
— Griitlii. — William Tell's chapel. — Fluellen. — Altorf. — 
Swiss haymakers. — An hour at Amsteg. — The rocks close 
in. — The Devil's Bridge. — The dangerous road. — "A car- 
riage has gone over the precipice ! " — Andermatt. — Desolate 
rocks. — Exquisite wild flowers. — The summit of the Eur- 
ka. — A descent to the Rhone glacier. — Into the ice. — 
Swiss villages. — Brieg. — The convent inn. — The bare lit- 
tle chapel on the bill. — To Martigny. 

WHEN we forget the scene before our dazzled 
eyes as we stepped out upon the balcony of 
the hotel Bellevue at Lucerne, earth will have passed 
away. There lay the fair lake, the emerald hills rising 
from its blue depths on every side, save where the 
queer old town sweeps around its curve, or beyond Pi- 
latus, where the chain is broken, and a strip of level 
land lies along the water's edge, sprinkled with red- 
roofed farm-houses set in the midst of grain-fields, and 
with rows of tall, straight poplars extending to the 
water. This sight of peaceful homes among the heav- 



DAI'S IN SWITZERLAND. 169 

enly hills is like a vision of earth in mid-heaven. Be- 
yond, above, overlapping each other, rise these delec- 
table hills. No earthly air envelops them. No earthly 
feet tread their fair summits. Upon the highest, among 
the eternal snows, rest the clouds. Truly, the heavens 
declare the glory of God ; but Switzerland showeth 
bis handiwork ! 

Beautiful was the lake in the hazy morning, light, 
when the hills cast purple and green shadows over its 
bosom, when the breeze rippled its surface, and the 
path in the w r ake of the little steamer widened into an 
endless way ; beautiful in the glare of the noonday 
sun, when a veil of mist half hid the far-off mountains, 
and the water gleamed like molten gold ; but most 
beautiful of all when the mountains wrapped them- 
selves in the shadows of night, and stole away into the 
darkness, while upon their white, still faces shone the 
rays of the setting sun. Then grim Pilatus stepped 
forth ; the moon, like a burnished globe, hung over the 
water, across which the little steamer ploughed silver 
furrows, or tiny boats, impelled by flashing oars, shot 
over the still surface, now near, now far away ; but dim, 
unreal, always. 

It was a place of rest to us — this city of Lucerne ; 
the " House Beautiful," where we tarried for a time be- 
fore setting out again upon our pilgrimage. We wan- 
dered about the narrow streets, visited the dingy shops 
full of wood carvings or ornaments cut in the many- 
hued crystals ; strayed over the low hills behind the 
town, through fields set with painted shrines ; paused 
before Thonvaldsen's Dying Lion, cut in the living rock 
— the grandest monument that heroes ever won ; and 



170 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

once, in the stillness of a summer morning, sat in the 
cathedral and heard the angels sing, when the old organ- 
ist laid his hands upon the keys. Sabbath mornings 
we sang the old versified psalms, and listened to the 
exposition of a rigid faith from the lips of a Scotch 
Presbyterian minister, in an old Roman Catholic church 

— the walls hung with pictured saints and martyrs, 
the high altar only partially concealed, and a company 
of women kneeling by the door to tell their beads. 
Not only rest, but Christian charity, had we found 
here. 

Almost every one who spends any time at Lucerne 
ascends the Righi to see the sun rise. Accordingly, 
five of our number prepared to follow the universal 
custom. In one of the little shops of the town we 
found some light, straw hats, with wide rims, for which 
we gave the extravagant price of three cents apiece, 
trimming them afterwards to suit individual taste, with 
ribbons, soft white lawn, and even mountain ferns and 
grasses. We slung our wraps over our shoulders by a 
strap, — a most uncomfortable arrangement by the way, 

— discarded crinoline, brought into use the shabbiest 
gowns in our possession, packed hand-satchels with 
whatever was necessary for a night upon the moun- 
tain, and then declared ourselves ready for any disclo- 
sures of the future or the Righi. 

A little steamer bore us from Lucerne to Weggis — 
a half hour's sail. We found Weggis to be only an 
insignificant village, almost pushed into the lake by the 
crowding mountain, and seeming to contain nothing 
but guides and shabby horses. As we left the steam- 
er, the open space between the pier and the hotel 



DATS IN SWITZERLAND. \~\ 

facing it was crowded with tourists, waiting for or bar- 
gaining with the guides for these sorry-looking beasts. 
No matter of what age, sex, or condition in life you 
may be, if you visit Switzerland, you will make, at 
least one, equestrian attempt; but in truth, there is 
nothing to fear for even the most inexperienced, as a 
guide usually leads each horse. The saddles for the 
use of ladies are provided with a rail upon one side, 
and the nature of the paths are such, that it would be 
impossible to go beyond a walk. The only danger is 
from over-fatigue in descending the rocky, slippery way, 
often like flights of stairs ; then, exhausted from try- 
ing to hold back in the saddle, dizzy from gazing into 
frightful depths, one might easily become unseated. 

When our guides were secured, one dejected beast 
after another was led to the wooden steps, always pro- 
vided for mounting and dismounting; we climbed to 
our several elevations with some inward quaking, 
fell into line, — for single file is the invariable rule, — 
and passed out of the village by immediately begin- 
ning the ascent, describing, in our saddles every known 
curve and angle, as the path became more and more 
rough and precipitous. For guides we had a man 
with a rakish air, and — we judged from his gait — a 
wooden leg, who tragically wrung the perspiration 
from his red flannel shirt at intervals ; a boy, with one 
of those open countenances only saved from complete 
lateral division by the merciful interposition of the 
ears, and a wizen-faced old man of so feeble an ap- 
pearance as to excite my constant sympathy, since his 
place chanced to be by my side. He assured me con- 
tinually that he was not tired, though before half of 



172 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

the three hours of the ascent had passed, his pale face 
belied his words. He was quite ready to converse, 
but I could with difficulty understand his English. 
We had paused at a wayside shed to rest the horses, 
and offer some refreshment to the guides, when I ad- 
dressed him with, — 

"What is that you are drinking? Is it goat's 
milk ? " 

" Noo, leddy," was his reply. " It is coo's ; " at the 
same time, and with the utmost simplicity and good 
will, offering me the glass from which he had been 
drinking, that I might taste and judge for myself. 

It is nearly nine miles to the summit, or Righi- 
Kulm. The bridle-path is rocky, rough, and steep, 
with a grassy slope upon either side, sprinkled at this 
season with dandelions, blue-bells, and odd yellow but- 
ter-cups. Often this slope changed to a precipice, still 
smiling with flowers. Upon every level spot orchards 
of pear trees and apricots had been planted, while 
evergreens and shrubs innumerable clung to the moun- 
tain sides, or sprang from among the rocks. 

Tossed about wherever they could find a resting- 
place, were great boulders of pudding-stone, overhang- 
ing the path, rising in our way, or rolling in broken 
masses under the horses' feet. Sometimes, perched 
upon a natural terrace, was a chalet, sheltered from 
sweep of wind or avalanche by overhanging rocks half 
covered with ivy and dainty clematis. Occasionally a 
beggar barred the way with outstretched hand, or 
offered for sale some worthless trinket, as an excuse 
for asking alms. We hugged the rocks upon one side, 
as other lines of tourists wound down to meet us, 



DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 173 

upon horseback or afoot with alpenstocks to aid their 
steps. Peasants, laden like beasts of burden, passed 
as we paused to rest, with trunks, provisions, and 
even the red tiles for the new hotel above, strapped 
upon their backs, or resting there on wooden frames. 
They came and went ; but ever present were the won- 
derful glimpses of earth, and sky, and shimmering 
lake far down below. 

At the half-way house we turn to climb a gentle 
slope upon the mountain face. On either side the land 
spreads out smooth and green. It had been hot below. 
The air strikes us here with an icy chill. A party of 
young Englishmen in knickerbockers, with blue veils 
tied about their hais, lean over the railing of the piazza, 
and scan us as we pass. A Spaniard, with his dark- 
faced wife, steps out of the path — all manner of oily 
words dropping from their lips. We reach the Righi- 
Staffel. Suddenly, upon one side, the land falls away. 
Among the reverberating hills echoes the jodel, and 
from a terrace far below, where a herd of dun cows 
are feeding, rises the tinkle of sweet-toned bells. From 
every path — and there are many now — winds a slow 
procession. The grassy slopes are all alive with peo- 
ple ; the hotel piazza, as we pass, is crowded with trav- 
ellers. Still they pour in from every side. Still the 
mountain-peak rises above us as we go on joining 
other trains, and leading others in turn. We pass 
through a rough gateway, ascend the broken rocks that 
rise like steps, follow again the narrow path, and reach 
at last the hotel, just before which rises the Kulm. 

Talk of the solitude of nature ! It is not found 
among these mountain peaks, grand though they are. 



174 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

We dismounted in the midst of a noisy crowd. Ex- 
clamations in seemingly every known tongue echoed 
about us, as one party after another arrived to swell 
the confusion. The hill before us swarmed with tour- 
ists, who had come, like ourselves, to see the sun rise. 
The hotel, and even the adjoining house into which 
the former overflows, were more than full. Since we 
had taken the precaution to telegraph, — for telegraphic 
communication is held with most of these mountain 
resorts, — some show of civility awaited us. A single 
room was given to the four ladies of our party, where, 
a few hours later, we disposed ourselves as best we 
could. It was only a rough place, with bare plastered 
walls, and unpainted wooden floor; but we were not 
disposed to be fastidious. Dropping our satchels, we 
hastened up the hill before the house. It fell in a preci- 
pice upon the other side — to what frightful depth I 
know not. Down below, the hills spread out like level 
land, with lakes where every valley should be, and 
villages, like white dots only, upon the universal green, 
among which the River Reuss wound like a silver 
thread. But above and over all, against the sky, rose 
the mountains — the Bernese Alps, like alabaster 
walls, the gates of which, flung back, would open 
heavenward, v. 

We wandered over the hillocks, which make up the 
summit, until the sun was gone. Gradually the dark- 
ness gathered — a thickening of the shadows until they 
seemed almost tangible. There was no flame of gold 
and crimson where the sun had disappeared ; there 
were no clouds to reflect the warm yellow light that 
hung about the west. But when the night wrapped 



DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 175 

us in, the little lakes down below gleamed out like 
stars. 

The crowd that pushed and fairly wedged itself into 
the salle a mcmger, when dinner was announced at 
eight o'clock, was quite beyond belief or computation. 
Everybody was tired, hungry, and impatient, after the 
ride to the summit. For once, silver was at a dis- 
count. One of the waiters was finally bribed to give 
us a private room, and slyly edged our party into a 
pantry, where he brought us, at immense intervals, a 
spoonful of soup and a hot plate apiece, after which, 
his resources utterly failing, he acknowledged that he 
could do no more. The second table cVhote was served 
between the hours of ten and eleven at night, and con- 
sisted of numerous courses, with a similarity of flavor, 
suggesting one universal saucepan. 

It was midnight when we finally gained our rooms, 
and threw ourselves upon the uncomfortable beds. The 
linen was wet, rather than damp. The only covering 
consisted of a single blanket, and the duvet or down 
pillow, always found upon the foot of continental beds. 

We imagined that the sun would appear with the 
very earliest known worm, and at least an hour before 
the most ambitious lark, and dared not close our eyes, 
lest they should not open in time to greet him. At 
last, however, sleep overpowered our fears. Katie's 
voice roused us. 

" It is three o'clock," she said, " and growing light, 
and I believe people are hurrying up the hill." 

Profane persons should avoid the Righi ; it is a place 
of terrible temptation. " Good heavens ! " we responded, 
" what kind of a sun can it be to rise at such an 
hour?" 



176 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

Our room was upon the ground floor. We pushed 
open the shutters and peered out, facing an untimely 
Gabriel, just raising to his lips an Alpine horn some 
•three feet in length. Evidently the hour had arrived. 
We thrust our feet into our boots, tied our hats under 
our chins, and ran out to join a most ridiculous collection 
of animated scarecrows like ourselves. Frowsy, sleepy, 
cross, and caring nothing whatever for the sun, moon, 
or stars, we stood like a company of Bedlamites, ankle 
deep in the wet grass upon the summit. No sun 
of irreproachable moral character and well-regulated 
habits would appear at such an hour, we knew. The 
light strengthened with our impatience. Every half- 
closed eye was fixed upon that corner of the heaveLS 
from which the sun would sally forth. The golden 
gates had opened. A red banner floated out. Tiny 
clouds on either side awaited his coming, dressed in 
crimson and yellow livery. Every one of us stood 
upon tiptoe — the heels of our unbuttoned boots there- 
upon dropping down. One collarless tourist, in whose 
outward adorning suspenders played a conspicuous 
part, gravely opened his guide-book, found the place 
with some difficulty, and buried his head in the pages, 
to assure himself that everything was proceeding ac- 
cording to Murray. Suddenly the white faces of the 
distant mountains grew purple with a rage which we 
all shared ; the flaming banner streamed out across the 
east, and the king of day, with most majestic step, but 
frightfully swollen, tell-tale countenance, rose in the 
heavens. I am sure he had been out all night. 

The light grew clearer now. The mountains rose 
reluctantly, and shook off their wrappings of mist. 




" Frowsy, sleepy, cross, and caring nothing whatever for the sun, moon, or 
stars, we stood like a company of Bedlamites, ankle deep in the wet grass 
upon the summit." Page 176. 



DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 177 

The little clouds doffed their crimson finery. The 
man held together by the marvellous complication of 
shoulder-straps, closed his guide-book with an air of 
entire satisfaction. Evidently the programme, as laid 
down by Murray, had been accurately carried out. 
Everybody exclaimed, " Wonderful ! " in his or her 
native tongue. All the knickerbockers, and woollen 
shirts, and lank water-proofs, without any back hair to 
speak of, trotted off down the hill to be metamorphosed 
into human beings, and prepare for breakfast, even to 
the individual who had been stalking about in a white 
bed blanket, with a striped border — though printed 
notices in every room expressly forbade the using of 
bed blankets as morning wraps. 

When breakfast was over, there was nothing to do but 
to make the descent to Weggis, and return to Lucerne. 

After a time, when weariness could no longer be 
made an excuse for lingering, we prepared for a tour 
through Switzerland. Engaging carriages to meet us 
at Fluellen, we embarked for the last time upon the 
beautiful lake, winding in and out its intricate ways, 
shut in by the towering cliffs that closed before us, 
only to re-open, revealing new charms as we rounded 
some promontory, and the lake widened again. Upon 
the bays thus formed, villages lean against the moun- 
tain-side. Where the rocks fall abruptly to the water, 
an occasional chalet is perched upon some natural ter- 
race, in the midst of an orchard or scanty garden. As 
we touched at these lake villages, brown-faced girls, in 
scant blue petticoats and black bodices, and with faded 
hair braided in their necks, offered us fruits — apricots 
and cherries — in pretty, rustic baskets. 
12 



178 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

One of these green spots, high among the rocks, 
forms a sloping meadow, touching the water at last. 
It is an oasis in the surrounding desert of barren rock. 
Do you know why the grass is greener here than else- 
where ? why the sun bestows its kisses more warmly ? 
why the foliage upon the scattered walnut and chest- 
nut trees is thicker, darker, than upon those on other 
mountain-sides? It is because this isfGriitlii — the 
birthplace of Swiss liberty) Here, more than five hun- 
dred years ago, the three confederates met at night to 
plan the throwing off of the Austrian yoke. 

Not far from Griitlii, resting apparently upon the 
water, at the base of one of these cliffs, is what appears 
at first sight to be a pretty green and white summer- 
house, open towards the lake. It is Tell's Chapel, 
built upon a shelf of rock, and only approachable from 
the water. Here — so the story runs — William Tell 
sprang ashore, and escaped the tyrant Gessler. We 
sweep around this promontory and gain the last bay 
where lies Fluellen — a ragged village, swarming with 
tourists, vetturinos, and diligences. Among the car- 
riages we find our own. It is a roomy landau, lux- 
uriously lined with scarlet velvet, drawn by three 
horses which wear tinkling bells, and is capable of carry- 
ing six- passengers. The top is thrown back, but a kind 
of calash-shade screens from the sun the occupants of 
what we should call the driver's seat. Our driver's 
place is a narrow board behind the horses. One crack 
of a long whip, and we are off at a rattling pace over 
the hard road, smooth as a floor. 

For the first day we are to follow the pass of St. 
Gothard — that well-travelled highway which leads 



DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 179 

through mountain defiles into Italy. We dashed by 
Altorf, where the family of Queen Victoria's husband 
originated, passing the open square in which William 
Tell shot the apple from the head of his son. An old 
man is watering a horse at the basin of the stone foun- 
tain which marks the spot where the father stood. All 
this valley is sacred to the memory of William Tell. 
In a village near by he was born; in the mountain 
stream, just beyond, he is said to have lost his life in 
the attempt to save a drowning child. After Altorf, 
the road winds among the meadows, though the moun- 
tains rise on every side, with chalets perched upon 
points which seem inaccessible, so steep are their sides. 
It is haying time, and men and women are at work in 
the fields and upon the mountain-sides, carefully secur- 
ing every blade of grass. Once, when we had begun 
to wind up the mountains, where a grass-grown preci- 
pice fell almost sheer to the valley below, a girl clung 
to its side, and pulled with one hand the grass from 
between the rocks, thrusting it into a bag that hung 
about her neck. She paused to gaze after us as we 
dashed by, a kind of dull awe that never rose to envy 
lighting her face for an instant. O, the hungry, pitiful 
faces of these dwellers upon the heights ! the pinched, 
starved faces of the little ones especially, who forgot to 
smile — how they haunted us ! At noon Ave sweep up 
to the post-house at Amsteg, with a jingle of bells, a 
crack of the whip, and an annunciatory shout from the 
driver. There is no village that we can see. The pi- 
azza of the post-house is filled with travellers, lunching 
before a long table ; half a dozen waiting carriages stand 
in the open space before it ; as many hostlers, with knit 



180 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

caps upon their heads, from which hang long, bright- 
colored tassels, are busy among the horses. At a short 
distance the Reuss River rushes past the house ; upon 
its bank is a little shop, with its store of Swiss curi- 
osities and trinkets. A couple of girls fill a tray with 
the dainty wares, and cross the space to tempt us. 
One has a scarlet handkerchief knotted under her hand- 
some, dark face. She turns her brown cheek to her 
shoulder, tossing a word back as the young hostlers 
contrive to stand in her way. 

One by one the carriages take up their loads and 
go on. We soon follow and overtake them, winding 
slowly up among the rocks, which seem ready to fall 
upon us. We form a long train, a strange procession, 
bound by no tie but that of common humanity. The 
meadows and soft, green mountain-slopes are left be- 
hind as we ascend, crossing from one side to the other 
by arched bridges thrown over the chasm, at the foot 
of which foams the torrent. Higher and higher rise 
the rent rocks — bare, black walls, seamed, and scarred, 
and riven, their summits reaching to the sky. They 
close about us, shutting out everything of earth and 
heaven, save a narrow strip of blue far above all. Even 
the sweet light of day departs, and a gloom and darkness 
as of a brooding tempest falls upon us as the way nar- 
rows. Suddenly a mad, foaming torrent, with angry 
roar, leaps from the rocks above, to toss, and writhe, 
and moan upon the rocks below the arch upon which 
we stand. The water rushes over them, and dashes 
against them. It swirls, and pants, and foams, while 
high above it all we stand, our faces wet with the spray, 
our ears deafened by the terrible roar. Truly, this is 
"The Devil's Bridge." 



DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 181 

Think of armies meeting here, as they did in the old 
Napoleonic wars, contending for the passage of the 
bridge below. Think of the shrieks of the wounded 
and dying, mingling with the raging of the waters. 
Think of the white foam surging red among the rocks ; 
of the angry torrent beating out the ebbing life of those 
who checked its flow. Think of the meeting of hosts 
in mortal conflict where no eye but God's could witness 
it, upon which not even bird or startled beast looked 
down. It was like a dreadful dream from which we 
passed — as through deep sleep — by a way cut in 
the solid rock out into God's world again. Still, from 
one side of the road rose the rocks that began to 
show signs of scanty vegetation now ; from the other 
fell the precipice to the torrent. We had left the car- 
riages at the bridge, and singly or in companies toiled 
up the road that doubled back upon itself continually. 
Often we climbed from one of these windings to the 
next above, by paths among the rocks, leaving the car- 
riages to make the turn and follow more slowly. Often 
our way was the bed of a last year's torrent, or our 
feet touched the borders of the stream, as we pulled 
ourselves up by the shrubs that grew among the rocks. 
The ice-chill in the air brought strength for the time, 
and perfect exhilaration. It seemed as if we could go 
on forever, scaling these mountain heights. 

At last the carriages overtake us, and we reluctantly 
resume our places. The road is built out upon the 
mountain-side. It offers no protection against the fall 
of the precipice. It narrows here. We look down, 
and say, " How dreadful a careless driver might make 
this place ! " and, shuddering, draw back. Suddenly 



182 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

the train pauses, and down the long hill runs a shout, 
" A carriage has gone over." We spring out, and run 
to the front. " Is any one killed ? " " No ; thank 
God, no one is harmed." We gather upon the edge 
of the precipice. Upon the rocks below lies the 
body of a horse — dead, with his fore feet raised, as 
though pawing the air ; and mingling with the white 
waters, and tossed about in the raging stream, are the 
shattered remains of a carriage and its contents. 

It seems that two young men from Canton Zurich 
essayed to make a tour of the mountains with their 
own horse and carriage — a foolhardy experiment, since 
none but tried horses, used to these passes, are con- 
sidered safe here. All went well, however, until they 
reached this point, where a torrent falls down the 
mountain-side to the road, under which it passes with 
a fearful noise. It might, indeed, startle the strongest 
nerves. The horse, young and high-spirited, shied to 
the edge of the precipice, then reared high in the air. 
They saw that he must go over when his fore feet came 
down, and springing out, barely escaped a similar fate. 
We all passed the spot with some trepidation, the most 
of us preferring to walk ; but our horses, accustomed 
to the road, were utterly unmoved by the swooping 
torrent. At night we reached Andermatt — only an 
untidy little village, lying in one of these upper valleys, 
bustling and all alive around the door of its one inn ; 
but how green and beautiful were the mountains, shut- 
ting us in all around, after the desolation through which 
much of our way had led ! Upon the side of the near- 
est was a triangular patch of wood-land, — firs and 
spruces, — said to divide and break the force of the 



DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 183 

avalanches that sweep down here in the spring. It 
can be nothing but a story of what had been true for- 
merly, when the wood was more extensive. Down 
these mountains, as night closed in, straggled a herd 
of goats to the milking, tinkling countless little bells, 
while the roar of the Reuss, which we had followed 
until it was now hardly more than a mountain brook, 
mingled with our dreams as it ran noisily through the 
village. 

On we went the next morning, wrapping ourselves 
warmly, for the air was chill as November, though at 
Lucerne, only twenty-four hours before, we had suffered 
a torrid heat. Just beyond Andermatt, at Hospenthal, 
we left the St. Gothard, to follow the Furka pass. All 
around was barren desolation, as we went on, still as- 
cending, leaving every sign of human life behind. 
Rocky and black the mountains rose, bearing only lich- 
ens and ferns. Occasional patches of snow appeared, 
lying in the beds of the last year's torrents, or scattered 
along beside the road. But here, where Nature had 
bestowed little to soften and beautify, she had spread 
upon the barren land, and tucked in among the rocks, a 
covering of exquisitely delicate flowers. You cannot 
realize, until you have seen them, the variety, beauty, 
and profusion of the Alpine flowers. Looking back in 
memory upon the bare rocks, doomed to stand here 
through all time in solitude and in the midst of desola- 
tion, as though in expiation of some sin, it is pleasant 
to remember that at their feet and in their clefts these 
little flowers nestle and bloom. 

We gathered nosegays and made snowballs, and at 
noon gained the summit of the Furka, and rested an hour 



184 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

or two at the inn — the only sign of house or hut we 
had seen since morning. The rough salons, the pas- 
sage, the doorway, even the space outside, were alive 
with tourists. It is a continual jar upon one's sense of 
the fitness of things, something to which you never 
become thoroughly accustomed, until all freshness of 
sight-seeing is passed — this coming suddenly upon the 
world in the midst of the unutterable solitude of na- 
ture ; this plunging into a crowd dressed in the latest 
style, and discussing universal frivolities where the 
very rocks and hills seem to stand in silent adoration. 
But after the first moment you, too, form one of the 
frivolous throng, the sight and sound of which shock 
the sensibilities of the next comer. 

From the inn a tongue of land, green and dotted 
with flowers, falls into the valley below. On either 
side rises a mountain, scarred by the torrents dried 
away now, and stained this day with the last year's 
snow, while beyond — ever beyond, like some heav- 
enly heights we vainly strove to gain — rose the 
Bernese Alps. 

From the summit of the Fnrka we descended to the 
Rhone glacier by one of the zigzag mountain roads. 
Looking down over the edge, we could see below, the 
ways we were yet to follow on the mountain face be- 
fore accomplishing the descent. The horses dashed 
down at a flying pace. The inclination of the road 
was not sufficient to alarm ; but the turns are always 
so frightfully abrupt as to make it seem as though the 
leader must dash off. But no; he invariably swung 
around just upon the outer edge, held, it seemed some- 
times, by the traces, and with a crack of the driver's 



DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 185 

whip was off again before our fears, if we had any, 
could find words. 

One of these abrupt turns fairly hangs over the 
glacier, where the icy river has fallen into broken 
masses from a higher point, before spreading out in 
the narrow valley just here where it ends. Only a 
short distance from the foot of the glacier is the inn, 
with its scattered out-buildings, where we were to 
spend the night. The sheer descent from the summit 
of the Furka is only about half a mile ; but though our 
horses had galloped the whole distance, and the inn 
was in sight all the time, we were three hours reaching 
it ; so many turns did the road make upon the face of 
the mountain. 

It was a gloomy valley, shut in by mountains, and 
surrounded by lesser hills all soaked and dripping with 
icy streams that chilled the air. We gained the foot 
of the glacier from the inn by a rough path over and 
among the rocks, and stones, and heaps of gravel it 
had brought down and deposited here. From beneath 
the solid mass of ice flowed a hundred shallow streams, 
which, uniting, form the beginning of the River Rhone. 
We penetrated for a short distance the gallery cut into 
the glacier, surrounded and shut down upon by the 
walls and ceiling, of a deep blue color, and were pre- 
ceded by an old man, who awoke the echoes by uttering 
a series of broken cries. What with the echoes and 
horrible chill, the place seemed most unearthly, and 
we were glad to retreat. 

The roar of torrents, and hardly less thunderous 
noise of departing diligences, awakened us the next 
morning. We were soon off upon the road, skirting 



186 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

the mountains, rolling through the pleasant valleys, 
and passing village after village now. They seemed 
silent and deserted, their occupants perhaps busy in 
the fields, or serving at the inns, or among the moun- 
tains as guides. One was a mass of ruins, thrown 
down in the bed of a torrent, among which a few dull- 
faced peasants were at work, with a hopeless, aimless 
air, that promised little. A mountain stream, swollen 
to a flood by melting snows, had swept it away in a 
night. 

At noon we lunched at Viesch — a slipshod, un- 
washed village, by the side of the young Rhone, which 
so far, in its dirty, chalk-white color, was not unlike the 
white-headed children that played upon its banks. 
Some of the party left the horses to their noon rest, 
and strayed out upon the road beyond the village. On 
its outskirts was a fine new church, of stone. If only 
something of its beauty could but come into the every- 
day lives of the poor people here ! We sat down upon 
the steps to wait. Across the road was an orchard, 
roughly fenced in; beside it one of the picturesque 
Swiss peasant houses — all steps, and queer old gal- 
leries, from which a little tow-headed girl stared out 
at us in open-eyed wonder, as we blew the down from 
the dried dandelions we had pulled along the way, 
and questioned if, in our far-off homes, our mothers 
wanted us ! 

It seemed as though we could descend no farther ; 
and yet, after sweeping through a valley, a sudden turn 
would disclose another, far below, to which this was as 
a mountain. So down we sped the whole day long ; 
once by a frightfully-narrow zigzag road, the worst by 



DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 187 

far of any we had seen ; passing still through the vil- 
lages so charming in the distance, but dirty, and full 
of odors by no means of sanctity, as we drew near. 
At night we rattled into the paved square before the 
inn at Brieg, just as the first drops of a coming shower 
wet its stones. 

This was evidently something more than a village. 
The houses were plastered, instead of being of wood 
with a rich, burnt-sienna color, like those we had seen 
along the road through the day. They were thickly 
clustered together, and from their midst rose the four 
turrets of a chateau. Our inn was a delightfully-dingy 
old place. It had been an Ursuline convent, and 
abounded in queer, dark passages, rough stone stair- 
ways, and old wooden galleries overlooking the square. 
One of our rooms had been a part of the convent chap- 
el, and was still lighted by a window just beneath the 
groined roof. Here we braided our hair, and knotted 
our ribbons, and dreamed, in the twilight that followed 
the rain, of the hopeless ones who had sought comfort 
in other days within these walls, and fell asleep at 
last, knowing full well that the fringe of many an old 
prayer was still caught and held in the arches high 
over our heads. We walked up through the town the 
next morning, to the beginning of the Simplon Pass. 
Somewhere in the narrow sreets we passed the old 
chateau, and pressed our faces against the bars of a 
gate, in order to gain some idea as to the domestic 
economy of the family which had bestowed upon Brieg 
its air of importance. But the chateau had degenerated 
into a brewery, and the court-yard was filled with old 
carts, clumsy and broken. 



188 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

Farther up the hill the door of a little chapel stood 
invitingly open, waiting for stray worshippers, or a 
chance-burdened heart (for even so far away as Brieg, 
hearts do grow heavy, I doubt not). Something in its 
narrow, whitewashed poverty touched our sympathies. 
It is rare indeed in these countries to find a chapel 
without at least some votive offering to make it beauti- 
ful in the eyes of the simple people : here was only a 
crucifix, and we pleased ourselves with the fancy that 
when the ships come in that we sent out as children — 
laden with hopes that were to be bartered for treas- 
ures — we would return, and hang the walls with 
pictures, and make the whole place wonderful in the 
eyes that had seen only its bareness. The shower the 
night before had laid the dust, and the drive that morn- 
ing was most enjoyable. Following the course of the 
noisy Rhone, we reached Sierre at noon, where we left 
the carriages with regret, and took the railway train to 
Martigny. 



AMONG THE EVERLASTING HILLS. 189 



CHAPTER XIV. 

AMONG THE EVERLASTING HILLS. 

The quaint inn. — The Falls of the Sallenehes, and the Gorge 
de Trient. — Shopping in a Swiss village. — A mule ride to 
Chamouni. — Peculiarities of the animals. — Entrance to the 
village. — Egyptian mummies lifted from the mules. — Rainy- 
days. — Chamois. — The Mer de Glace. — "Look out of 
your window." — Mont Blanc. — Sallenehes. — A diligence 
ride to Geneva. — Our little old woman. — The clownish 
peasant. — The fork in the road. — "Adieu." 

OUR hotel here at Martigny, was even more sug- 
gestive of romance than the one at Brieg. It 
had been a monastery, and was an old, yellow-washed 
structure facing the street, with a rambling garden 
surrounded by high walls, clinging to it in the rear. 
Low, dark rooms, with bare, unpainted floors, like the 
waves of the sea in smoothness, were given to some of 
our party, while Mrs. K. and I were consigned again, 
with singular appropriateness, to what had been the 
chapel. Its windows overlooked the straggling, half- 
dead trees, and bare, hard-baked earth of the open 
space before the door, which was always being crossed 
by strings of mules ornamented with bright saddle- 
cloths, and still further with the ubiquitous tourist 
arrayed in every known costume of the period. Vil- 



190 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

lage girls, too, passed under the trees, knitting as they 
went, and horrible creatures afflicted with the\gotire — 
that curse of this region ■)— which we met at every 
turn now. 

To gain the long, low refectory where we dined, or 
to pass from one room to another, necessitated crossing 
the brick-paved cloisters, upon which all the doors 
of the second story opened. Here a row of columns 
encircled a narrow, inner court-yard — so narrow as to 
be nothing more than a slit in the walls, yet wide 
enough to allow the shimmering sunlight to drop down 
upon the vines twined around the columns, and light 
the whole dingy interior into a weird, strange beauty. 

We rode out to the Falls of the Sallenches, — one of 
the mist veils left hanging from many of these Swiss 
mountains by the water-sprites, — and penetrated the 
Gorge de Trient upon the shaky gallery that follows 
its windings ; wandered about and beyond the town ; 
stole into an old church, and brought away the mem- 
ory of a lovely virgin face; and haunted the dingy 
shops in the vain hope of making a few necessary pur- 
chases. These shops were not unlike our New Eng- 
land country stores in their combined odors and con- 
fused incapabilities. Behind the counters, or more 
likely sitting in the doorway with the inevitable blue 
knitting in hand, were old women, of hard, baked-apple 
faces, whose ideas of the luxuries of a woman's ward- 
robe were so far below what we considered its necessa- 
ries, that we parted in mutual surprise, to say the 
least, and without gain on either side. 

Sabbath morning, English church service was held 
in the parlor of one of the hotels ; after which a 



AMONG THE EVERLASTING HILLS. 191 

clergyman in gown and bands discoursed from the 
text, " And there shall be no more sea," — a peculiarly 
comforting hope to some of us. 

Monday morning, we mounted the horses and mules 
waiting in dejected impatience before the door, and 
started upon the long ride of twenty two miles to 
Chamouni by the Tete Noir Pass. A wide, pleasant 
avenue, shaded by walunt trees, led out of the town ; 
after which we began to ascend the gently-sloping 
mountain-sides, passing occasional villages, and be- 
sieged by beggars and venders of fruit, as usual. In- 
deed, these beggars are so constant in their attendance 
and importunity that one forgets to mention them, un- 
less recalling flies and similar swarming annoyances. 

The scenery, as we went on, was often grand, always 
interesting; the sky overcast, but at times the clouds, 
drifting apart, disclosed peaks or "needles" so far 
above the mountains about us as to seem a revelation of 
heaven. The path was treacherous and rough — skirt- 
ing precipices, descending in rocky steps or slippery 
mire, and crossing mountain streams by narrow, inse- 
cure bridges. Single tile is the invariable rule in all 
these mountain excursions, and after a time the isola- 
tions of this mode of travelling adds to its wearisome- 
ness. Solitude is delightful ; but as some one has said, 
" How pleasant it is to have a friend near by to whom 
you may remark, c How delightful is solitude ! ' " 

As you follow the windings of the narrow, steep path, 
you have a choice between addressing the back of the 
one who precedes you, and throwing a remark over your 
shoulder to those who come after. Involuntarily you 
fall to studying the curves of the former, and are 



192 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

utterly indifferent to the fact that the latter are proba- 
bly meditating upon the intricacies of your back hair. 
Mule-riding is conducive to grace of neither soul nor 
body; still you know you are not making such a spec- 
tacle of yourself as did the woman just passed — who 
twisted about in the saddle as though worked along 
by rotary motion. Perhaps not. 

As you leave the villages to plunge into the woods, 
the flies swarm like beggars ; and it is only when the 
guides have cut boughs from the trees, which you 
wave before you, wickedly suggesting palm branches, 
that you can proceed with tolerable comfort, and with- 
out the fear of an unexpected toss in the air, as one 
kick after another runs down the line. 

Each horse or mule has his own slight peculiarities 
of habit and disposition. I recall one whose inordinate 
curiosity led him to walk always upon the verge of 
the precipices, so that the rider's feet overhung the 
frightful depths. Murray says it is best to allow these 
animals to choose their own paths. But to hang sus- 
pended between heaven and earth at the mercy of 
a strap and a mule, will shake one's faith, even in 
Murray. 

My horse this day was possessed of the dreamy, mel- 
ancholy nature of a poet, with the attendant lack of 
ambition. Every time we wound funereally through a 
village, he would walk deliberately to the mounting- 
steps, and wait most suggestively. Indeed, an air of 
abstraction characterized all his movements; even 
when, as we approached these villages, raising his head, 
he would seem to sniff the odors of Araby the Blest ; 
which was a mistake, a delusion of his fancy shared by 



AMONG THE EVERLASTING HILLS. 193 

none of the others of the party. That he was without 
pride I must confess. No stable did we pass so poor, 
none so mean, that he was ashamed to pause and offer 
to enter with meek obdurateness. 

Poetic as was his temperament, his appetites were de- 
veloped in a remarkable degree. Once upon a narrow 
bridge we met two walking haystacks, out from which 
peered great, blue eyes. If the size of his mouth had 
corresponded at all to his desires, they would have 
vanished from sight in a twinkling; as it was, they 
barely escaped. Whether or not insatiable thirst is an 
attribute of a poet, I do not know ; but each stream 
which crossed the path, — and the whole country seemed 
liquidizing, — each drinking-trough beside the way, — 
and to my excited imagination they seemed to form an 
unbroken line, — was an irresistible temptation. It was 
only by shouting, " Yeep ! Yeep ! " in staccato chorus, 
and vigorously applying the palm branches, thus en- 
gaging his attention and diverting his thoughts into 
less watery channels, that we succeeded in making any 
progress whatever. Under this disciplinary process his 
nature was at last so far subdued that he would have 
passed the ocean itself without a sigh, I am sure. 

There was a rest of an hour at the Tete Noir inn at 
noon, shut in by the firs, and rocks, and mountains, 
then we went on to Argentiere, where we gladly ex- 
changed the horses and mules for some low, open carts 
with a couple of villagers in blue blouses for drivers. 
In these we accomplished the remaining three or four 
miles, and made a triumphal entry into Chamouni. 

It was late in the afternoon when We crawled up the 
narrow, thronged street to the Hotel Royal, from which 
13 



194 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

the English, French, and American flags were flying. 
The clouds had dropped lower and lower, until a fine 
mist was beginning to deepen into rain, and the guides 
and tourists detained in the village fairly jostled each 
other at the intersection of the two principal streets, 
which seemed to form the village Exchange. The mire 
of the streets was thickly stamped with hoof-prints 
and the marks from the nails that stud the shoe-soles 
of the mountain climbers. Line after line of doleful 
looking objects, which might prove Egyptian mum- 
mies when unwrapped, were being lifted from still 
more sorry looking beasts before the door of the hotel, 
and assaying to mount the steps, with a stiffness and 
angularity of movement in which we all sympathized. 

Indeed, after dinner, when a bright fire was lighted 
in the long salon where the various parties gathered 
to read, write, look over stereoscopic views, or chat 
among themselves, it was amusing, as well as pitiable 
to observe the abortive attempts at ease and flexibility 
as these individuals crossed the polished floor, to hear 
the groans smothered to sighs as they resumed their 
seats. " Mules ! " whispered the girls, nudging each 
other, and mindful of the delight which misery is said 
to find in company. 

All the next day the rain dripped down upon the 
village from the heavy clouds that hid the mountains. 
Everybody improved the opportunity to write letters, 
or yawned over the books scattered about the salon. 
Among them was a well-thumbed copy of " Artemus 
Ward, His Book." At the foot of each page the local 
allusions of the jokes were explained, I remember. 
Out in the street, umbrellas were dodging about from 



AMONG THE EVERLASTING HILLS. 195 

one shop to another. These rainy days, though a loss 
to the guides, are harvest times for the shopkeepers. 
Photographs and stereoscopic views of the mountains, 
the glaciers, and daring climbers hanging on by their 
eyelids, abound here, with any amount of wood and 
chamois (?) horn carving and crystal ornaments. Speak- 
ing of chamois-horn, if you expect to see in Switzer- 
land — as you do in geographies — chamois perched 
upon every crag, preparatory to bounding from peak to 
peak, you will be grievously disappointed. Not a cham- 
ois will greet your eyes. We passed — I have forgotten 
where — a pen in which, by paying a certain sum, we 
might look upon a veritable live chamois ; but we had no 
desire to see the incarnation of liberty thus degraded. 

"We waited two days for the uplifting of the clouds, 
making, in the mean time, an excursion up the Montan- 
vert to overlook the Mer de Glace — which is not a 
sea, but a river of ice, like all the, glaciers that have 
worked themselves down into these valleys. We re- 
tired one night with the cloud curtains spread low over 
our heads ; the next morning a voice from outside of 
our door called, " Look out of your window." We sprang 
up, seized the cord of the shutters, and behold ! a new 
heaven and new earth ! Every vestige of cloud was 
gone. The mountains were bathed in sunlight, vivid 
green were the peaks before us, which had never met 
our gaze until now, while behind the nearest, against 
the deep blue of the summer sky, rose the three vast 
white steps which lead heavenward, the highest of which 
men call Mont Blanc. All that morning, as we de- 
scended from the valley of Chamouni to Sallenches, we 
turned continually to look back ; and still, white and 



196 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

beautiful, but growing less in the distance, rose the 
triple domes. 

We had taken a carriage to Sallenches : here we find 
places in the open diligence for Geneva. We pause in 
the first village through which we pass, where a knot 
of people gathers about a round little old woman. She 
wears a wide-rimmed hat over her neat frilled cap, and 
carries another upon her arm. Her waist is dimly de- 
fined by the strings of a voluminous apron, and her 
mind entirely distracted by the cares attendant upon 
the disposal of a cotton bag, a wicker basket, an old 
umbrella, and a box, which half a dozen men seize upon 
with clumsy hands, in good-natured officiousness, and 
thrust into the baggage compartment, while the women 
and children press about her, kissing the rough, ruddy 
cheeks, and uttering what we are sure must be bless- 
ings — odds and ends of which float up to us. Evi- 
dently the little, old woman is going a journey. Aided 
by a dozen rough, helpful hands, she climbs the ladder 
to her place beside us, with a deprecatory though cheer- 
ful " Bon jour " to us all, subsiding into a corner, where 
she is immediately submerged as her belongings are 
showered down upon her ; last of all a crumpled letter 
is tossed into her lap. 

The driver mounts to his place; she leans over; a 
perfect gust of blessings, and kisses, and adieus follow 
us, as with a crack of the whip the horses spring away, 
and we leave the village far behind. 

Suddenly — for we have turned away our faces — the 
little old woman's hand is plunged into the cotton bag 
under our feet. We venture to look around. The tears 
have gone ; her face beams like the sun, as she brings 




" Evidently the little old woman is going a journey." Page 196. 



AMONG THE EVERLASTING HILLS. 197 

out of the depths a couple of eggs. Another dive, 
and she emerges with a piece of bread. A pinch of 
salt is added from the basket, and her breakfast is com- 
plete. She hospitably offers a share to each of us. 
We decline ; and as a shadow dims the brightness of 
her face, Katie adds quickly, — 

" We have had two breakfasts already." 

The little old woman rolls her round, blue eyes to 
heaven, with a pious ejaculation. Such lavish extrav- 
agance is beyond her comprehension. 

"That is like you rich people," she says. "We are 
only too happy if the good God sends us one? And 
she relapses into a wondering silence. 

"Does madame travel far?" we venture presently. 

"Ah, yes." And she shakes her head slowly. 
Words cannot express the distance, it is so great. 

" But she has been this way before ? " we go on. 

" No, never before." And again the round, blue 
eyes seek heaven, and again a deep sigh follows the 
words. She has finished her lunch, and, diving under 
our feet, emerges after a time with a box, which, 
opened, discloses a small store of peppermints. This 
she offers with some hesitation, and we each hasten to 
accept one, her countenance beaming more and more 
as they disappear. " Given to hospitality," the little 
old woman has been, we know. 

When the box is with difficulty replaced, the string 
of the bag drawn, the basket arranged to her satisfac- 
tion, the umbrella placed at a pleasing angle, she bal- 
ances herself upon the edge of the seat, and glances 
fearfully from side to side as we swing along the smooth 
road. Once, when the wheel passes over a stone, she 
seems to murmur a prayer. 



198 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

" Madame is not afraid ? " we say. 

"0, very much. These diligences are most danger- 
ous." And now she is glancing over her shoulder at a 
rocky wall of mountains which follows the road at a dis- 
tance. "They might fall." And she shudders with 
the thought. We assure her that it is impossible ; but 
she has heard of a rock falling upon a diligence, and 
thinks it was upon this road. And all the horror of 
the fearful catastrophe is depicted upon her face. 
Gradually we learn that the little old woman has never 
travelled in a diligence before ; that she has never be- 
fore made any journey, in fact. For forty years she 
has kept the house of the cure in her native village. 
Now, she tells us with a sigh, and uplifted eyes, he has 
" become dead," and she is obliged to seek a home 
elsewhere among strangers. Here she turns away her 
eyes, which grow dim as her smile, and for a moment 
forgets her fears. 

We are approaching a village. She hastily searches 
her basket and brings out the crumpled letter which had 
been thrown into her lap. As we dart through the 
narrow street and across an open square, she leans out, 
utters a word in a sharp, excited tone, and, to our 
surprise, throws the letter far out into the dust of the 
street. An idle lounger in the square starts at her 
voice, runs heavily across the street, and picks it up. 
She sinks back, all cheerful smiles again. She has 
chanced upon the very man to whom the letter was 
addressed. 

The dust rolls up from the great wheels. She ex- 
changes the hat upon her head for the one over her 
arm, covering the former carefully with a corner of 



AMONG THE EVERLASTING HILLS. 199 

her apron. This, she tells us, as she arranges the 
second upon her head, she was accustomed to wear 
when she picked vegetables of a morning in the garden 
of the good cure. And the sighs return with the 
recollection of her master. 

The day wears on with heat and sifting dust. By 
and by, at another village, a filthy, dull-fiiced peasant 
clambers up the ladder and stumbles into a vacant 
place. We shrink away from him in disgust. Our 
little old woman only furtively draws aside her neat 
petticoats. Soon she engages him in conversation. 
We see her lean far forward with intense, questioning 
gaze upon the distance where he points with dirt-be- 
grimed finger. Then with a sigh which seems to come 
from the baggage compartment beneath us, so very 
deep and long-drawn it is, she turns to us. She, too, 
points to a range of hills, very dark and gloomy now, 
for they are covered with woods, and the shadow of a 
cloud lies upon them. 

" It is there, beyond the mountains, I am going ; " 
and the shadow of the cloud has fallen upon her face. 
All the sunshine has fiided out of it. Then, with 
something warmer, brighter than any sunshine gleam- 
ing in her eyes, she adds, " But the good God takes 
care of us wherever we go." 

We have reached a fork in the road. There is no 
village, no house even, in sight. Why, then, do we 
pause? The ladder is raised. 

" It must be for me ! " gasps the little old woman, 
casting one bewildered glance over to where the shad- 
ows are creeping, and then calmly gathering together 
her possessions. We grasp the hands she extends, we 



200 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABO AD. 

pour out confused, unintelligible blessings. Is it the 
dust which blinds our eyes ? Even the clownish peasant 
stumbles clown the ladder, and lifts out her box. The 
driver remounts. The whip cracks. We lean far out. 
We wave our hands. Again the dust fills our eyes 
so that our sight for a moment is dim, as we dash away, 
leaving her sitting there alone upon her box, where the 
two roads meet. But beyond the hills where the 
shadows rested, we know that the sun still shines for 
our little old woman whose master "became dead." 



LAST DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 201 



CHAPTER XV. 

LAST DAYS IN SWITZERLAND. 

Geneva. — Calvin and jewelry. — Up Lake Leman. — Ouchy and 
Lausanne. — " Sweet Clarens." — Chillon. — Freyburg. — 
Sight-seers. — The Last Judgment. — Berne and its bears. — 

— The town like a story. — The Lake of Thun. — Interlaken. 

— Over the Wengern Alp. — The Falls of Giessbach. — The 
Brunig Pass. — Lucerne again. 

"VX^E dashed up to the hotel upon one of the fine 
|f quays at Geneva, and descended from the 
open diligence with all the appearance of travellers 
who had crossed a sandy desert. There is an air of 
experienced travel which only dust can impart. 

The most charming sight in the city, to us, was our 
own names upon the waiting letters here. In truth, 
there are no sights in Geneva. Tourists visit the city 
because they have been or are going elsewhere, be- 
yond. If they pause, it is to rest or buy the jewelry 
so far-famed. To be sure the view from almost any 
window opening upon the blue Rhone is pleasing, 
crossed by various bridges as it is, one of which 
touches Rousseau's Island. But our heads by this 
time were as full of views as that of a Boston woman. 
Calvinists and Arminians alike visit the Cathedral, 
and sit for a moment in the old reformer's chair, or at 



202 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

least look upon the canopy of carved wood from be- 
neath which he used to preach. There are few mon- 
uments here. The interior is bare, and boarded into 
the stiff pews, which belong by right and the fitness 
of things, not to these grand, Gothic cathedrals, but to 
the Puritan meeting-houses, where we gather less to 
breathe a prayer than to sit solemnly apart and listen 
to a denunciation of each other's sins. 

It is a little remarkable that the city where Calvin 
made and enforced such rigid laws against luxury, and 
the vanities of the world should, in these latter days, 
be noted for the manufacture of jewelry. But so it is ; 
and to walk the streets and gaze in at the shop win- 
dows would turn the head of any but the strongest- 
minded woman. Two or three addresses had been 
given us of manufactories where we could be served 
at more reasonable rates than at the grand shops. We 
climbed flight after flight of dingy stone stairs, in 
dingier buildings, to reach them, and found ourselves 
at last in little dark rooms, almost filled by a counter, 
a desk, and a safe or two. Certainly no one would 
think of looking for beautiful things here! But we 
had become tolerably accustomed to such places in 
Paris, and were not at all surprised when one shallow 
drawer after another was produced from behind the 
counter, and a blaze of gems and bewildering show of 
delicately executed gold work met our eyes. If you 
care for a souvenir only, there are/ pretty little finger- 
rings encircled by blue forget-me-nots in enamel, which 
are a specialty of Geneva./ But if you possess the 
means and disposition, you may gratify the most ex- 
travagant desires, and rival Solomon in magnificence. 



LAST DAYS IN SWITZERLAND. 203 

Twice a clay steamers leave Geneva to ascend the 
lake. It was a bright, summer afternoon when we em- 
barked from the pier beyond our hotel, and steamed 
away past the villages that lie along its edge. Among 
them is(Coppet, the home of Madame de Stael,jthe 
towers of which rise up behind the town. The deck 
of the steamer was alive with tourists. One party, 
from meeting at every turn, rests even yet in memory; 
the 1 idies stout, red-faced, and showily dressed, with 
immense "charms" pendent from their chatelaines — 
shovels, tongs, and pokers, life-size — the result of a 
sojourn at Geneva, doubtless. 

For some time after leaving the city, we could look 
back upon Mont Blanc, white and beautiful, rising 
above the dark mountains, and lying close against the 
sky blue as the waters of the lake. The likeness of a 
recumbent figure of Napoleon — the head and shoul- 
ders alone, — in the garb of a grenadier was startling, 
haunting us even after it had changed again to a snow- 
white mountain. As though the hero slept, like those 
in German legends, until his country called him to 
awake and lead its hosts to battle. 

At Ouchy we leave the steamer, where the gardens 
of the grand hotel Beaurivage come down to meet us. 
How delightful are these Swiss hotels ! with their pleas- 
ant gardens, many balconies, wide windows, and the 
flying flags outside ; and within, scrupulous neatness, 
and even elegant appointments. The rooms vary in 
size rather than in degree of comfort, there being none 
of the sudden leaps or plunges between luxury and 
utter discomfort, found in so many hotels — elsewhere. 
The floors are bare, the strips of wood forming squares 



204 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

or diamonds, waxed, and highly polished. A rug here 
and there invites bare feet. A couple of neatly-spread 
beds stand foot to foot upon one side of the room, 
* sometimes with silk or lace coverlets, but with always 
the duvet, or large down pillow, at the foot. There is 
no stint of toilet arrangements. A lounge and easy- 
chairs tempt to idleness and repose ; and a round table, 
of generous proportions, awaits the chocolate, rolls, 
fresh butter, and amber honey, when the last curl is in 
order, the last ribbon knotted, and you have rung for 
your breakfast. Of course the rooms vary in degree 
of ornamentation. The walls are often beautifully 
tinted or frescoed, and the furniture elegant ; but the 
neatness and comfort among these summer hotels are 
almost universal. Sometimes, in one corner, or built 
into the wall, stands the high, white porcelain stove, 
so like a stray monument that has forgotten its inscrip- 
tion, and is sacred to many memories ; and the long, 
plate-glass windows, swinging back, open often upon a 
balcony and a charming view. No wonder that half 
the hotels in Switzerland are named Bellevue. 

An omnibus bears you from Ouchy, which is simply 
the port of Lausanne, back into the city, past pretty 
country residences, walled in, over the gates of which 
the owners have placed suggestive names : " My Rest ; " 
"Heart's Desire;" "Good Luck;" "Beautiful Situa- 
tion ; " anything which fancy or individual taste may dic- 
tate. Of Lausanne I recall little but an endless mount- 
ing and descending of stairs. The city is built upon a hill, 
intersected by ravines, which accounts for this peculiar 
method of gaining many streets from others above and 
below. We made but a hurried visit. It was market 



LAST DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 205 

day, and ugly women, old and young, were sitting 
upon the sidewalks in the narrow streets, knitting, 
with the yarn held over the fore-finger of the left hand, 
and selling fruits and vegetables between times. In 
the honey market the air fairly buzzed and swarmed ; 
yet still these women knit, and gossiped, and bargained 
complacently, unmindful of the bees in their bonnets. 
From Ouchy we made an excursion to the head of the 
lake. It is a short voyage of two hours to Villeneuve, 
the last town. Clouds hid the distant mountains ; but 
those lesser and nearer, upon our right, as we went on, 
were bare, and broken, and rocky, contrasting strange- 
ly with the gently swelling slopes upon the other side, 
covered with vineyards, and with quiet little villages at 
their feet. Each of these villages has its romantic as- 
sociation ; or, failing in that, a grand hotel to attract 
summer visitors. Vevay boasts the largest hotel, but 
nothing more. Just beyond Vevay is " Clarens, sweet 
Clarens," the willows of which dip into the lake. 
Here, if Rousseau and Byron are to be believed, Love 
was born ; possibly in some one of the mean little 
houses which border the narrow streets. 

Soon after leaving Clarens, the gray, stained tower 
of Chillon rises from the water, near enough to the 
shore to be reached by a bridge. With the "little 
isle " and its three tall trees marked by the prisoner 
as he paced his lonely cell, ends the romance of the 
lake. Poets have sung its beauties, but Lucerne had 
stolen away our hearts, and we gazed upon the rocks, 
and vineyards, and villages, with cold, critical eyes. 
It was only later, when the summer twilight fell as we 
lingered upon the balcony before our windows at 



206 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

Ouchy that we acknowledged its charm. The witch- 
ing sound of music came up from the garden below. 
Upon the silver lake before us, the lateen sails, like the 
•white wings of great sea-birds, gleamed out from the 
darkness; the tiny wavelets rippled and plashed softly 
against the breakwater; and where the clouds had 
parted overhead, a horned moon hung low in the sky, 
while the mountains resolved themselves into shadows 
or other waiting clouds. 

There w r as a little church between Ouchy and Lau- 
sanne, gained by crossing the fields, where we remem- 
bered the Sabbath day, and joined in the church ser- 
vice led by an English clergyman. These Sabbaths 
are like green spots now in memory, — restful, cool, 
refreshing, and pleasant to recall, — when the world, 
and all haste and perplexity of strange sights, and 
sounds, and ways, were rolled off like a heavy burden, 
while we gathered, a little company of strangers in a 
strange land, yet of one family, to unite in the familiar 
prayers, and hymns, and grand old chants. 

Monday morning the "American cars" bore us away 
from Lausanne to Freyburg. But such a caricature 
are they upon our railway carriages, that we were in- 
clined to resent the appellation. Low, bare, box-like, 
with only three or four seats upon each side, they 
hardly suggested the original. 

We had chosen the route through Freyburg that we 
might visit the suspension bridge, and hear the cel- 
ebrated organ. The city clings to the sides of a ravine 
after the perverse manner of cities, instead of spread- 
ing itself out comfortably upon level land. So steep 
is the declivity that the roofs of some of the houses 



LAST DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 207 

form the pavement for the street above. At the foot 
of the ravine flows a river crossed by bridges, and the 
towns-people have for centuries descended from the 
summit on one side to climb to that upon the other, 
until some humane individual planned and perfected 
this suspension bridge, — the longest in the world save 
one, — which is thrown across the chasm. In order to 
test its strength, when completed, the inhabitants of 
the city, or a portion of them, gathered in a mass, with 
artillery and horses, and stood upon it ! Then they 
marched over it, preceded by a band of music, with all 
the dignitaries of the town at the head of the column. 
Since it did not bend or break beneath their weight, it 
is deemed entirely safe. 

Through the most closely-built portion of the city 
runs the old city wall, with its high, cone-capped watch- 
towers, and the narrow, crooked, and often steep 
streets are very quaint. The sense of satisfaction 
which returns with the memory of these streets is 
perhaps partly due to the fact, that the girls of the 
party surveyed them from above great squares of gin- 
gerbread bought at a patisserie near the station, and 
ate as they strolled through the town over the pavings 
of these crooked ways. The bread of dependence is 
said to be exceedingly bitter ; but the gingerbread of 
Freyburg is uncommonly sweet, in memory. 

When the suspension bridge has been crossed and 
commented upon, every one strikes a bee-line to the 
Cathedral, which rises conspicuously above its sur- 
roundings. It would be very amusing to watch the 
professional sight-seers at all these places, if one did 
not belong to the fraternity, which makes of it quite 



208 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

another affair. There is no air of pleasuring about 
them ; no placid expression of content and sweet-to-do- 
nothing. They seldom are found meandering along 
the tortuous streets, the milk of human kindness moist- 
ening every feature, beams of satisfaction irradiating 
every countenance. They never spend long hours 
wandering among the cloisters of old cathedrals, or 
dream away clays by storied shrines, as friends at home, 
who read of these places, fondly imagine. By no 
means. The sight-seer is a man of business. He has 
undertaken a certain amount of work, to be done in a 
given time. He will do or die. And since it is a seri- 
ous matter, involving doubt, he wears an appropriately 
solemn and preoccupied expression of countenance. 
He darts from point to point. He climbs stairs as 
though impatient Fame waited for him at the top. His 
emotions of wonder, admiration, or delight, must be- 
stir themselves. He drives to the first point of inter- 
est, strikes a bee-line to the second, cuts every corner 
between that and the third, and then, consulting his 
watch, desires to know if there is anything more, and 
experiences his only moment of satisfaction when the 
reply is in the negative. And the most remarkable 
part of all is, that he goes abroad to enjoy himself. 

But even if one is less ambitious, if you are so for- 
tunate as to be naturally indolent, and to delight to 
dwell in the shadow of dreams, you will shake off dull 
sloth here. You live and move in a bustling crowd. 
Every storied spot is thronged with visitors. Far from 
musing by yourself, you can at best but follow in the 
wake of the crowd, with the drone of an endless story 
from the lips of a stupid guide in your ears, bringing 
only confusion and weariness. 



LAST DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 209 

A notice upon the door of the Cathedral informed 
us that the organ would not be played until evening. 
We held a council of war, and decided to go on. Just 
over our heads, as we stood before the entrance, was a 
representation of the Last Judgment, cut in the stone, 
in which the good, very scantily attired, and of most 
self-satisfied countenances, trotted off after St. Peter, 
who carried the father of all keys, to the door of a 
castle representing heaven, while the poor wicked were 
borne away in a Swiss basket, strapped upon the back 
of a pig-headed devil, to a great pot over a blazing fire, 
which a little imp was vigorously blowing up with a 
pair of bellows. The wicked seeming to outnumber 
the good (this was designed many centuries ago), and 
the pot not being large enough to hold them all, the 
surplus were thrust into the jaws of a patient croc- 
odile near by. Seated in an arm-chair, above all this, 
the devil looked down with an expression of entire 
satisfaction. 

The interior of the Cathedral was in no way remark- 
able. In the choir (which you know, perhaps, is not a 
place where girls stand in their best bonnets to sing 
on Sundays, but the corner of these great cathedrals 
in which the church service is held) were some fine 
stained glass windows ; but even here, horrible mon- 
keys and hideous animal figures, life-size, were cut from 
the wood, and made to stand or crouch above the stalls 
where the priests sit. Those old ecclesiastic artists 
must have believed in a personal devil, who assumed 
many forms. 

A threatened shower hastened our steps to the sta- 
tion some time before the arrival of the train, which 
14 



210 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

seemed to come and go without regard to the hour ap- 
pointed. While waiting, we read the advertisements 
framed and hanging upon the walls, of hotels, shops, &c. 
One of the latter, in a triumph of English, ran, — 

Wood Carwlngs; 
Choose as nowhere else. 

We reached Berne before night, and drove to the Ho- 
tel . If it could by some happy chance have been 

turned inside out, how comfortable we might have been ! 
The exterior was most inviting. A German waiter of 
Irish face, who had a polyglot manner of speech, diffi- 
cult to be understood, showed us to our rooms ; and the 
table d'hote, to which we descended an hour later, was 
made up of an uncommon array of prim-visaged indi- 
viduals. Dickens's Mr. Chadband, in a very stiff, 
white neckcloth, was my vis-a-vis. I looked every mo- 
ment for his lips to open, and — " Wherefore air we 
gathered here, my friends ? " to issue forth. 

The guide-book had informed us that the greatest 
attraction of Berne to strangers was the fine view of 
the Bernese Alps to be gained from here ; but a cur- 
tain of cloud hung before them during all our stay. 
Still we were interested in the queer old city, with the 
second story of the houses, through many of the 
streets, projecting over the sidewalk, forming gloomy 
arcades, and bright red cushions in the window seats, 
where pretty girls sat and sewed, and watched the 
passers clown below. I remember it rained, and there 
was a market held out in the square before the hotel 
windows in the early morning, where the umbrellas 
made every old woman to dwell in her own tent for 



LAST DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 211 

the time. When it was over, and the rain had ceased 
to fall, we waited in front of the old clock-tower before 
driving out through the pleasant suburbs, with mar- 
ket women, baskets on their arms, stray children, idle 
loungers, and alert tourists, for the feeble puppet-show 
heralded by the asthmatic crow of a rheumatic cock. 
Of course it was a procession of bears. Everything 
in Berne is, or has to do with, a bear, since the city 
was founded upon the spot where somebody killed a 
bear. Bears surmount most of the stone fountains.- in 
the streets ; they ornament the monuments erected to 
heroes. Cut from wood, they are offered for sale 
as souve?iirs ; stuffed, they are exhibited at the 
zoological gardens ; and, to crown all, government sup- 
ports in luxury a whole family of bruins. We left the 
carriage upon the Nydeck bridge, to look down into 
the immense circular basin where they are kept. It 
must be a dull life, even for a bear. They are ugly 
creatures, with reddish fur, and spend their time climb- 
ing a leafless semblance of a tree, with no object but 
to descend again, or in sitting up to beg for biscuits of 
visitors. So universal has the custom of bes;o-mg; be- 
come in Switzerland, that even the bears take to it 
quite naturally. 

The mountains obstinately refusing to appear, we 
left Berne for Thun, passing through a lovely country. 
Only occasionally did a road appear ; then it would 
seem to extend for long miles, bordered by immense, 
close-planted trees. Neither fences nor hedges were 
there to divide the fields ; but patches of grain were 
thrown down anywhere and at any angle. Potatoes 
were sown like grass instead of being planted in hills, 



212 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

and were devoured this year by rot — the worst feature 
in the landscape. All through the early summer we 
had seen hemp growing everywhere. Now it was cut, 
and lying outspread upon the ground in odd regularity, 
an occasional head only being left to run to seed. 

There was nothing to visit in Thun. But the whole 
town is like a story. Not an elegant, high-toned story, 
to be sure, though a picturesque old castle and church 
lifted themselves aristocratically above the more hum- 
ble town. The streets are narrow, and as picturesque 
as they are dirty, with a sidewalk sometimes above the 
first, low, projecting story of the houses. 

It is a mile from the town to the lake of the same 
name. Close by the steamer landing, where we were 
to embark for Newhaus, is the hotel Bellevue. With- 
in the garden enclosure were several little chalets / one 
to serve as reading-room, another as salle a manger, 
while a third, beyond the pond, where swan were sail- 
ing, displayed Swiss wares for sale. Here we lunched 
and rested for an hour, before going up the lake. It is 
a voyage of an hour and a half to its head, past beauti- 
full villas upon one side, and precipitous rocks upon the 
other. Once landed at Newhaus, — where there was 
not a new house that we could see, but only a scanty 
collection of little huts, — we searched about, with the 
mud ankle deep, among the crowd of waiting vehicles, 
for the omnibus which was to bear us the two miles 
and a half to Interlaken and the hotel Jung Frau. If 
you recall your geography lessons, you will perhaps 
know that the two lakes, Thun and Brienz, are sepa- 
rated by a strip of land, upon which is this village of 
Interlaken. It is hardly more than one long street, 



LAST DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 213 

with green fields and a row of trees upon one side, and 
a line of houses standing back upon the other. In full 
view from the windows of these summer hotels, when 
the sky is clear, rises the Jung Frau, between two great 
mountain j>eaks. This is the only sight in Interlaken, 
and yet the town throngs with visitors. It must be 
intolerably hot here at times, lying low among the 
mountains as does this valley. In the fields, behind the 
grand hotels, is a long, low Kursaal, a rustic affair, with 
a wide piazza. You may lunch, and read the news- 
papers ; but government has prohibited the gambling. 
There are delightful excursions to be made from here, 
which accounts, perhaps, for the crowded hotels. And 
there are several fine shops, where you may buy all or 
any of the curiosities for which the country is well 
known. 

A rainy day crowded these shops and the hotel par- 
lors, and made a busy scene the length of the street, 
which is very like a country road. But the second 
morning after our arrival, we rose early, to prepare for 
an excursion over the Wengern Alp. The Jung Frau, 
hidden the day before, appeared in full view with the 
rolling away of the clouds, and we desired to ap- 
proach nearer to the shy maiden. All the listlessness 
of the day before was past. As we stepped out of the 
little chalet, in the hotel garden, where — the hotel be- 
ing full — we had slept in a room only vacated for the 
night, with a pair of immense red slippers behind the 
door, and Madame's gowns hanging from pegs on the 
wall, everybody was astir. More than one party was 
sipping their scalding coffee as we entered the hotel 
breakfast-room, while, under the great trees outside, 
guides and saddled horses waited impatiently. 



214 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

When we had tied on our wide-rimmed hats, and 
gathered our shawls, we found a roomy carriage, an 
open landau, waiting for us at the side-door of the 
hotel. We drove quickly out of the town, followed by 
and following other carriages, until we formed a long 
procession by the time we had reached the valley of 
Lauterbrunnen and began the ascent. It is a deep, dark 
valley, shut in by innumerable overhanging rocks, from 
which thread-like waterfalls hang suspended in air, or 
are lost in spray. Hardly does the sun seem to pene- 
trate its depth, and an indescribable gloom, as well as 
chill, pervades the place. From a few scattered cot- 
tages women and children emerged to follow the car- 
riages, begging mutely or offering fruits, while at one 
point a man awaited our approach to awake the echoes 
with an Alpine horn. 

After an hour we reach Lauterbrunnen, and leave 
the carriage at the door of an inn, where a crowd bar- 
gains and waits for guides and horses. We swell the 
number. When we are served, we mount to our places, 
and file out of the straggling village, turning before we 
reach the Staubach Falls — a stream of silvery spray that 
never touches earth, but swings and waves in mid-air. 
The ascent grows more and more steep. The recent 
rain has added to the icy streams, which filter con- 
stantly from snows above, and the horses sink in the 
mire, or slide and slip in a way by no means reassuring. 
Often the path is mounted by steps of slipj)ery logs ; 
when added to this is a precipice upon one side, we 
hold our breath — and pass in safety. We commend 
each other as we perform feats of valor and intrepidity 
which would make our fortune in the ring, we fancy. 



LAST DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 215 

The guides, insolent and careless, stroll on in advance, 
leaving the most timid to their own devices. Pres- 
ently, as we enter a perfect slough of despond, we see 
a man before us scraping the mire with a hoe vigor- 
ously, as we come in sight. 

"You fchould give this poor man something," says 
one of the guides. " He keeps the road in order." I 
wish you might have seen the orderly road ! 

Suddenly we gain a point where the land spreads out 
into green knolls before us and on either side — a strip 
of almost level verdure, with, on one hand, peak on 
peak, rising till they touch heaven ; upon the other, the 
Jung Frau, draped in snow. It seems so near, so very 
near, — though the land drops between us and it into a 
deep ravine, and the snow-clad peaks and needles are 
a mile away, — I almost thought I might guide my horse 
to the verge of the chasm, and reaching out, gather the 
snow in my hand. Across the summit, the clouds, 
white as itself, drifted constantly, hiding it completely 
at times. It had been a tiresome climb of two hours 
and a half, and we were glad to rest an hour before de- 
scending. As we turned the corner of the Jung Frau 
inn, having dismounted from our horses, we were met 
by our ubiquitous, stout friends of Lake Leman memo- 
ry, to whom, I presume, we seemed equally omnipresent. 
Table d'hote was served here, one party following 
another, until the long table was' full. Occasionally the 
noise of an avalanche, like the sound of distant thunder, 
aroused and startled us, and caused us to vacate every 
seat. But though the mountain appeared to be so near, 
these avalanches, which sweep with tremendous force, 
carrying tons of ice and snow, seen from this distance. 



216 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

seemed like nothing more than tiny mountain streams 
let loose. 

From the inn, we mounted and went on half a mile, 
before reaching the summit and beginning the un- 
comfortable descent. We thought every bad place 
must be the worst, as the horses slid down the slippery 
stones, or descended the log steps with a peculiar jerky 
motion, suggesting imminent and unpleasant possi- 
bilities. But, after fording torrents swollen by the 
rain, crossing narrow, treacherous bridges, sliding down 
inclined planes, and whole flights of stairs, the guides 
informed us that we should reach a dangerous place 
presently ! 

When, finally, we came to it, we were quite willing to 
dismount, and make our way down over the rocks for a 
mile, trusting to our own feet, and beset continually by 
women and children, who appeared most unexpectedly 
at every turn, to thrust little baskets of fruit or flowers 
into our hands. The very youngest child toddled after 
us with a withered field-flower, if nothing more. So 
early do they begin to learn the trade of a lifetime. 

We entered Grindelwald late in the afternoon. The 
shadows of night, which fall earlier in these valleys 
than elsewhere, were already gathering. The few, scat- 
tered cottages, walled in by the everlasting hills, with 
the snow-covered Wetterhorn in full view, and the 
glacier behind it, wore a cheerless and gloomy air in 
the quick-coming twilight. Train after train of tour- 
ists, upon horses and mules, or dragging weary feet, 
descended from among the mountains, to find carriages 
here and hasten away. Only these arrivals and depart- 
ures gave a momentry life to the spot. What must 



LAST DAl r S IN SWITZERLAND. 217 

it be when the summer sun and the last visitor have 
left it ? 

We, too, sought out our waiting carriage, and rolled 
away in the summer twilight, down the beautiful road, 
wide and smooth enough to lead to more dreadful 
places than the pleasant valley of Interlaken, where, 
for a day at least, was our home. 

The next afternoon, instead of spending the Sab- 
bath here, we decided to go on to Giessbach, on the 
Lake of Brienz, to visit the celebrated falls. We had 
rested comfortably in the hope of a quiet day in the 
little chalet, where more permanent arrangements had 
been made for our disposal. But the enterprising 
member of the party, to whom we owed not a little, in 
a happy moment of leisure, gave herself to the study 
of the guide-book, the result of which was — Giessbach. 
We gathered our personal effects together, under the 
pressure of great excitement and limited time, reached 
the little steamer, fairly breathless, and then sat and 
waited half an hour for it to move. It was not, how- 
ever, a tedious time; for there occurred an incident 
which engaged our attention. 

" What do you suppose they're going to do with 
that calf?" asked the boy of the party, who, like all 
boys, was of an inquiring turn of mind. "They've 
got him into the water, and are poking him with 
sticks." 

Upon this we all became immensely interested. A 
calf had fallen into the water, between the pier and the 
steamer ; but the fruitless efforts made by everybody, 
interested or disinterested, were to rescue, not drown, 
the creature, as a bystander would have inferred, Sud- 



218 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

denly, as his own struggles carried him away from the 
wharf, and he was about to sink, a white, delicate hand, 
bound with rings, and an arm daintily draped, were 
thrust out from one of the cabin windows, seized upon 
the head disappearing in a final bob, and held on until 
assistance came, when the poor animal, half dead with 
fright, was drawn from the water. 

At last the steamer moved away from the wharf, and 
in an hour or less the little pier at Giessbach received 
us. There is a tiny valley, one hotel, and a series of 
pretty cascades here. But all these are reached by a 
smooth road, winding back upon itself continually, and 
so steep that carriages do not ascend it. You must 
walk, or rather climb it, for twenty minutes, or accept 
the disagreeable alternative of being carried up by two 
men in a chair, resting on poles. The day was warm ; 
our arms were weighed down with satchels, &c. ; but 
we pressed on, while, commenting upon our personal pe- 
culiarities in dress, gait, and general air, as they looked 
down upon us from the height we almost despaired of 
gaining, were the complacent, comfortable souls, who 
always reach these desirable places the day before any 
one else, and, in the freshest possible toilets, sit, like 
Mordecai, in the gates. 

It may have been droll to them; it was a most seri- 
ous matter to us. It was Saturday afternoon, and each 
one felt and acted upon the realized necessity of 
outstripping his neighbor, in order to secure rooms. 
Finally the gentlemen hastened on, our ambition failing 
with our strength, and we were happy in finding com- 
fortable quarters awaiting us when we had gained the 
hotel at last. 



LAST DATS IN SWITZERLAND. 219 

It was the most delightful little nook imaginable 
when we were rested and' refreshed. Until then it 
possessed no charms in our eyes. It is a little valley, 
high above the lake, towards which it opens, but shut 
in on three sides by precipitous hills. Down the face 
of one the cascades fall. Back against another the 
hotel is built, facing the lake ; its dependance, and the 
inevitable shops for the sale of Swiss wood-carving and 
crystals, being ranged along the third side. The whole 
place is not larger than a flower-garden of moderate 
size. 

We were served at our meals by pretty, red-cheeked 
girls, in charming Swiss costumes; and when we had 
been out after dark to see the falls illuminated in dif- 
ferent colors, while the rustic bridges, which span the 
cascades at various heights, were crossed by these 
picturesque figure.?, I felt as if we were all part of a 
travelling show, for whom this dear little level spot 
was the stage, and that a vast audience waited outside, 
where the walls of hills opened upon the lake, for the 
curtain to fall. It was like the Happy Valley of Ras- 
selas, which we left with regret when the peaceful 
Sabbath was over. 

Across the lake, at Brienz, Monday morning, a car- 
riage waited to bear us on, over the Brunig Pass, into 
the clouds and out again; then down, down, past vil- 
lage, and lake, and towering hills, resting again at 
Sarnen, then on to Lucerne, into which we swept, with 
tinkling bells and cracking whip, to find the city gay 
with streaming flags and flowery arches, erected for 
some singing fete, but which to us were all signs of a 
happy welcoming. 



220 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 

Coming home. — The breaking up of the party. — We start 
for Paris alone. — Basle, and a search for a hotel. — The twi- 
light ride. — The shopkeeper whose wits had gone "a 
wool-gathering." — " Two tickets for Paris." — What can be 
the matter now ? — Michel Angelo's Moses. — Paris at mid- 
night. — The kind commissionaire. — The good French gen- 
tleman, and his fussy little wife. — A search for Miss II. 's. — 
" Come up, come up." — " Can women travel through Eu- 
rope alone ? ". — A word about a woman's outfit. 

10 dash through the town, along the quay where 
we had walked so many times beneath the trees 
or leaning over the low parapet fed the fishes, past 
the two-spired cathedral, the cloisters of which had 
become so familiar, to mount the hill and draw up be- 
fore the door of the Bellevue again, welcomed by the 
innkeeper, and greeted with outstretched hands by 
" Charles," who had served our chocolate, while familiar 
faces met us at every window or upon the stairs, to pull 
up the shutters, throw wide open the windows, and 
drink in the glorious beauty of the scene before our eyes 
— all this was delightful, but fleeting, like all earthly 
joys, and mixed with pain ; for here we were to say 
"good by." 

Our pleasant party was to break up. The friends 



BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 221 

in whose care we had been so long, were off for 
Germany, and Mrs. K. and I must turn our faces 
towards home. We were to renew our early and 
brief experience in travelling alone. It had been as 
limited as our French, which consisted principally 
of " Est-ce que vous avez f " followed by a panto- 
mimic display that would have done credit to a pro- 
fessional, and " Quel est le prix f " succeeded by the 
blankest amazement, since we could seldom, if ever, 
understand a reply. 

" Are you afraid ? " queried our friends. 

"No ; O, no." The state of our minds transcended fear. 

It was a hot day when we took our last view of the 
lake, as we rode down the hill from the hotel, past the 
cathedral, past the shaded promenade upon the quay, 
to the station ; but we heeded neither the heat nor the 
Landscape when we were once in the train and on the 
way. Our hearts were heavy with grief at parting 
from friends, our spirits weighed down by nameless 
fears. It was a wicked world, we suddenly remem- 
bered. Wolves in sheep's clothing doubtless awaited 
us at every turn, Roaring lions guarded every station. 
We clutched our travelling-bags, umbrellas, and wraps, 
with a grasp only attained by grim fate or lone women. 
Gradually, however, as the uneventful hours wore 
away, we forgot that in eternal vigilance lay our safety, 
and relaxed our hold. 

We had left Lucerne at noon; at five o'clock we 
reached Basle. Here we were to spend the night at 
the hotel Les Trois Hois. Every step of the way to 
Paris had been made plain to us by our kind friends. 

"Let me see; the hotel is close by the station?" 



222 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

queried Mrs. K., when we had left our trunks, as our 
friends had advised, and followed the crowd to the 
sidewalk. 

"Yes," I replied with assurance, "close by, they 
said ; I am sure." 

Accordingly we turned away from the long line of 
hotel omnibuses backed up against the curb-stone, to 
the fine hotels on each side of the straight avenue, ex- 
tending as far as the eye could see. Alas ! among their 
blazing names was no " Trots Hois." We read them 
over and over again. We even tried to pronounce 
them. Not a king was there, to say nothing of three. 

In a kind of bewilderment we strayed down the 
avenue. Might not some one of the fair dwellings 
gleaming out from the shrubbery prove the house we 
sought? There was a rattle and clatter behind us; a 
passing omnibus. Another, and still another followed. 
Serene faces beamed out upon our perplexity. A cloud 
of dust enveloped us as the last rolled cheerfully by, 
upon the end of which we read, with staring eyes, 
" Les Trois Hois." 

" Ah ! " gasped Mrs. K. 

" Sure enough," I replied. 

" Why, suppose we take it ? " said she, slowly. 

" Suppose we do," I assented, with equal deliber- 
ation. But by this time the little red omnibus was a 
speck in the distance. 

" At least we can follow it." And we quickened our 
steps, when, with almost human perversity, it turned a 
distant corner, and vanished from sight. 

Fixing our eyes steadily upon the point of disap- 
pearance, we hastened on, and on, and on ! I have a 



BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 223 

flint recollection of green trees, of stately houses, of 
an immense fountain swaying its white arms in the 
distance — mirage-like, for we never approached it; 
of the sun pouring its fierce rays upon us as we toiled 
on, with our wraps and satchels turning to lead in our 
arms. 

We readied the corner at last. There was no omni- 
bus ; no hotel in sight ; only the meeting of half a 
dozen narrow, crooked streets, crowded with carriages, 
and alive with humanity. All settled purpose left us 
then ; our wits, never very firmly attached, followed. 
We became completely demoralized. 

" Suppose you inquire," suggested Mrs. K., after a 
period of inaction, during which we were pushed, and 
jostled, and trampled under foot by the crowd. 

If I possessed one capability above another, it w r as 
that of asking questions, especially in a strange lan- 
guage. Upon this corner where we were standing, 
rose an imposing building, in the open doorway of 
which stood a portly gentleman, with a countenance 
like the setting sun, in glow and warmth. A heavy 
mane flowed over his shoulders. Evidently this was 
the first of the roaring lions ! Taking our lives in our 
hands, we approached him. 

"Do you speak English ?" I ventured. 

" New" was his reply, with a shrug of the leonine 
shoulders. 

I drew a long breath and began again. 

" Parlez-vous Francais f " 

His reply to this was as singular as unprecedented. 
He turned his back and disappeared up the wide stairs 
in the rear. 



224 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

" This may be foreign politeness," I was beginning, 
doubtfully, when he reappeared, accompanied by an 
intensified counterpart of himself. The setting sun in 
the face of this man gave promise of a scorching day. 

" Parlez-vous Frangais, monsieur? " I began again, 
when we had bowed and " bon-jour "-ed for some time. 

" Oui, oui, mademoiselle." 

Here was an unexpected dilemma. A terrible pause 
ensued. Then, with an effort which in some minds 
would have produced a poem at least, I attempted to 
make known the object of our quest. I carMiot begin 
to tell of the facial contortions which accompanied this 
sentence, nor of the ineffable peace which followed its 
conclusion. It made no manner of difference that his 
reply was a jargon of unintelligible sounds. Virtue is 
its own reward. One sentence alone I caught, as the 
indistinguishable tones flew by. We were to take the 
first street, and then turn to the right. 

" What did he say ? " asked Mrs. K., when we had 
merci-d ourselves out of their radiant presences. 

I explained the direction we were to follow. 

"Horrible countenance he had," she remarked, as 
we pursued our way. 

" O, dreadful," I assented. 

" Nobody knows where he may send us," she con- 
tinued. 

Sure enough ! In our alarm we stopped short in the 
street, and stared at each other with horrified counte- 
nances. 

" I have heard — " I began. 

" Yes ; and so have I," she went on, shaking her 
head, and expressing by that gesture most fearful pos- 
sibilities. 



BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 225 

A bright thought seized me. " He told us to turn 
to the right; we will turn to the left ! " And with 
that happy, womanly instinct, said to transcend all 
judgment, we did. Strange as it may appear, though 
we went on for a long half hour, no " Trois Hois " 
gladdened our eyes. 

Suddenly Mrs. K. struck an attitude. " A fine ap- 
pearance we shall present," said she; " two lone women, 
dusty and heated, our arms full of baggage, straggling 
up to a hotel two mortal hours after the arrival of the 
train. We'll take a carriage." 

To me this inglorious advent was so distant in pros- 
pect that it held no terrors, nothing of mortification 
even. " Les Trois Hois " had become a myth, an idea 
towards which we vainly struggled. 

" If it were only across the street," she went on, 
rising to the occasion and warming with the subject, 
" we would go in a carriage." 

One approached at that moment. We motioned to 
it a la Mandarin, with our heads, our hands and arms 
being full. The driver raised his whip and pointed 
solemnly into the distance. We turned to gaze, see- 
ing nothing but the heavens in that direction. When 
we looked back, he was o;one. We should not like to 
airirm — we hardly dare suggest — we are sure of 
nothing but that he vanished from before our eyes. 

A second appeared in the distance. We began in 
time. We pawed the air wildly with our umbrellas. 
The very satchels and wraps upon our arms nodded 
and beckoned. In serene unconsciousness the driver 
held to his course. 

" Well ! " I exclaimed, indignantly. 



226 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

^ I should think so," added Mrs. K., with emphasis. 
"Is there anything peculiar, anything unusual in our 
personal appearanee ? " I asked, glancing down upon 
our dusty appointments. As we concentrated oar 
energies and belongings for one final effort, a benignant 
countenance smiled out upon us from above a cipher. 
We were storming a private carriage ! 

The third attempt was more successful. The driver 
paused. We requested him, in English, to take us to 
" The Three Kings." He only stared and shook his 
head. "We tried him with " Les Trois Mois? He 
seemed still more mystified. 

"What can be done with people who do not under- 
stand their own language! " I exclaimed in despair. 

We tried it again with our purest Parisian accent. 
An inkling of our meaning pierced his dull understand- 
ing. He rolled heavily down from his seat, and opened 
the door with the usual " Out, ouV We entered and 
were driven away. 

" Do you think he understood you ? " queried Mrs. K. 
" No-o." 

" Well, where do you suppose he will take us ? " 
" I don't know, and I don't much care," I responded, 
in desperation. 

We settled back upon the cushions. The peace that 
follows resignation possessed our souls. O, the luxury 
of that jolting, rattling ride, as we wound in and out 
among the tortuous streets ! A full half hour passed 
before the dusky old hotel darkened above us, sur- 
mounted by "The Three Kings" arrayed in Eastern 
magnificence, and wearing gilded crowns upon their 
heads. 



BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 227 

Fate had been propitious. This was our destination, 
without doubt, though we had made a grand mistake 
as to its location. We descended at the entrance with 
the air, I trust, of being equal to the occasion. We 
calmly surveyed the assembled porters, who hastened 
to seize our satchels and wraps. We demanded a room, 
and inquired the hour of table d'hote, as though we 
had done the same thing a thousand times before. 
Mrs. K. was right; there was a moral support in that 
blessed carriage. 

Table d'hote over, we strayed into a pretty salon 
opening from the salle a manger. Both were crowded 
— over doors and windows, and within cabinets filling 
every niche and corner — with quaint specimens of 
pottery — pitchers, vases, and jars, ancient enough 
in appearance to have graced the domestic establish- 
ment of the original "Three Kings." The glass doors 
thrown back enticed us upon a long, low balcony, al- 
most swept by the rushing river below — the beautiful 
Rhine hastening on to its hills and vineyards. We 
leaned over, smitten with sudden homesickness, and 
sent a message back to Rolandseck of happy memory. 

With the faint shadows of corning twilight we 
wandered out into the square before the hotel. A line 
of voitures extended down one side, every one of 
which was quickened into life at our approach. We 
paused, with foot upon the step of the first, for the 
carte always proffered, upon which, is the number of 
the driver and the established rate of fares. He only 
touched his shiny hat and prepared to gather up his 
reins. 

"O, dear! " we said ; "this will never do ; we must 



228 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

not go." And we stepped down. The porters upon the 
hotel steps began to cast inquiring glances. One or two 
stray passers added their mite of curiosity, when the 
knight-errant, who always breaks a lance for distressed 
womanhood, appeared upon the scene. We recognized 
him at once, though his armor was only a suit of gray 
tweed, and he wore a fashionable round-topped hat for 
a casque. 

Almost before we knew it, we were seated in the 
carriage, the carte in our hands, and were slowly crawl- 
ing out of the square — for a subdued snail-pace is 
the highest point of speed attained by these public 
vehicles. 

The memory of Basle is as shadowy, dim, delightful, 
as was that twilight ride. Where we were going, we 
neither knew nor cared ; nor, later, where we had been. 
We wound in and out the close streets of the old part 
of the city, full of a busy life so far removed from our 
own, that it seemed a show, a picture; below the 
surface we could not penetrate. We rolled along wide 
avenues where the houses on either side were white as 
the dust under the wheels. Once in a quiet square, 
we paused before an old Hotel de Vitle, frescoed in 
warm, rich colors. Again upon the outskirts of the 
city, before a monument; but whether it had been 
erected to hero or saint I cannot now recall. And 
somewhere, when the dusk was deepening, w T e found 
an old church, gray as the shadows enveloping it, with 
a horseman, spear in hand, cut in has relief upon one 
side. What dragon he made tilt against in the dark- 
ness we never knew. 

Even our driver seemed to warm beneath the infln- 



BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 229 

ences which subdued and dissipated our cares. He 
nodded gently and complacently to acquaintances, 
eliciting greetings in return, in which we, in a measure, 
shared. He hummed a guttural, though cheerful song, 
which found an echo in our hearts. He stood up in 
his place to point the way to misguided strangers, in 
whose perplexities we could so well sympathize. And 
once, having laid down the reins, and paused in our 
slow advance, he held a long and seemingly enjoyable 
conversation with a passing friend. To all this we 
made no manner of objection, rather we entered into 
the spirit of the hour, and were filled with a com- 
placency which was hastily banished upon our return to 
the hotel, where, as we put into the hand of our benev- 
olent driver his due, and the generous pour boire which 
gave always such a twinge to our temperance principles, 
he demanded more. 

"He claims," said the porter, who was assisting our 
descent, " that he has been driving with the carriage 
lamps lighted. There is an extra charge for that." 

" But he left his seat to light them this moment, 
just before we turned into the square," we replied, 
indignantly. 

The porter shrugged his shoulders. That is the end 
of an argument. There is never anything more to be 
said. We submitted at once, though our faith in 
benevolent humanity went to the winds. 

Somewhat dispirited, we climbed the stairs to our 
room. "One day more," we said, "and our troubles 
will be at an end." But, alas ! one day was as a thou- 
sand years ! 

It was to be an all-day's ride to Paris, from nine 



230 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

o'clock in the morning until half past nine or ten at 
night. So, while waiting for breakfast, we hastened 
out into the town, in search of a bookstore, and some- 
thing to while away the dull hours before us. 

A young man, of preternaturally serious counte- 
nance, was removing the shutters as we entered a 
musty little shop. We turned over the Tauchnitz's 
editions of English novels until we had made a choice, 
the value of our purchases amounting to four or five 
francs, and gave him a napoleon. With profuse 
apologies he left us to get it changed. Returning 
presently, he threw the silver into a drawer, and hand- 
ed the books to us, with a "Merci." 

"Yes," we said; "but — " Arithmetic had never 
been my strength ; still something was clearly wrong 
here. 

" The change," said Mrs. K. " He has given us no 
change." Sure enough; but still he continued to bow 
and thank us, evidently expecting us to go. 

We tried to explain; eliciting only one of the 
blank stares that usually followed our attempts at 
explanation. 

" The man must be an idiot," Mrs. K. said, gravely. 

" He certainly has an imbecile expression of counte- 
nance," I assented. He stood still, bowing at intervals, 
while we calmly weighed and balanced his wits before 
his eyes. We tried signs ; having through much 
practice developed a system to which the deaf and 
dumb alphabet is as nothing. We attempted to con- 
vince him that a part of the money was ours. 

He smiled, and assured us, in a similar way, that the 
books belonged to us, the money to him. 



BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 231 

There was so much justice in this, that we should 
doubtless have assented, had not his own wits finally 
asserted themselves. Blushing like a bashful boy, he 
suddenly exclaimed, counted out the change, and 
poured it into our hands with so many apologies, that 
we were glad to retreat. 

It was a discouraging beginning for the new day. 
Still we would not despair. We had assured our anx- 
ious friends that we were quite able to take care of 
ourselves. We would triumphantly prove our own 
words. Breakfast over, and our bill settled without 
mishap or misunderstanding, we started for the station 
in the hotel omnibus, in company with a stout, genial 
Frenchman, who spoke a little English, and his fussy 
little wife. When we entered the station, the line 
formed before the ticket-window was already formida- 
ble. It lacked fifteen minutes of the hour when the 
train would start, and our baggage was — where? We 
seized a commissionaire, slipped a piece of money into 
his hand in a very bungling, shamefaced way, and, 
presto! in a moment our trunks appeared among the 
other baggage, though we had looked in vain for them 
before. Then, with a sensation of self-consciousness 
approaching guilt, I stepped to the foot of the line 
before the ticket-window. 

"Two tickets for Paris," I gasped, finding myself, 
after a time, brought face to face with the sharp-eyed 
official. "What is the price?" But before I could 
utter the words, the reply rattled through my head 
like a discharge of grape-shot. Every finger resolved 
itself into ten, as I essayed to open my purse and count 
out the gold pieces. What should I do ! I had not 



232 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

enough into ten francs ; it might as well have been ten 
thousand ! Mrs. K. was waiting at a little distance ; 
but the place once lost in the line could not be re- 
gained, and there was our baggage yet to be weighed, 
and the hands of the clock frightfully near the hour of 
departure. There was an impatient stamping of feet 
behind me, as I stood for a moment dizzy, bewildered, 
with an angry buzz of voices ringing with the din and 
roar in my ears. Then I rushed down the room to 
Mrs. K., and explained as hastily as possible. She 
filled my purse, and I flew back to find the line pushed 
forward and my place gone. One glance at the hands 
of the clock, at the discouraging line of ticket-seekers 
yet to be served, — how could I go to the foot again ! 
Then I walked straight to the window with the cour- 
age of despair. A low growl ran down the line, the 
gendarme on guard stepped forward, expostulating 
excitedly; but, blessings on the man at the head of 
the line, who pushed the others back, and gave me a 
place, and even upon the grim official behind the 
window, who smiled encouragement, and gave me 
the tickets, while the gendarme stormed. I stepped 
out again, conscious only of the wish — strong as a 
prayer — that we were safe again in Lucerne, or — some 
other place of peaceful rest. 

Wedged in among the crowd, we saw one trunk 
after another weighed and removed, while ours re- 
mained untouched. I pulled the sleeve of a porter. 
My hand held my purse. The suggestion was enough. 
In a moment our trunks were weighed, and the little 
paper ticket corresponding to our "check" safe in our 
possession. I turned, conscientiously, to reward the 



BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 233 

porter; but we were jostled by a score of elbows, each 
encased in the sleeve of' a blue blouse. Which was 
the one I sought? I could not tell. Each answered 
my glance of puzzled inquiry with one of expectation. 
Diving to the depths of my purse, I found it to contain 
one solitary centime — nothing more. I slipped it into 
the hand nearest, and from the start of surprise and 
delight was immediately convinced that it was the 
wrong man. However, it did not matter. There was 
no time to explain. The doors opening upon the plat- 
form, which remain locked until the last moment, 
were thrown open, and we hurried away, found places 
upon the train, and sank back upon the cushions ex- 
hausted, but happy. For ten hours at least, nothing 
could happen to us. The guard passed the window, 
examining the tickets, and slamming the doors, making 
our safety doubly sure. A moment moie, and with a 
noiseless motion we were off. Hardly had the train 
started before it stopped again. One after another 
our companions left us — for we were not alone in the 
compartment. " Strange," we said, yet too thoroughly 
exhausted to be curious. It was still more strange 
when, after a short time, they each and all returned. 
They began to whisper among themselves, pointing to 
us. "What can be the matter now?" we queried, 
suddenly mindful that life is a warfare, and roused to 
interest. 

Our fellow-travellers proceeded to enlighten us in 
chorus, and in the confusion of the outburst, we caught 
— by inspiration — at their meaning. We had crossed 
the frontier into France, and the baggage was ex- 
amined here. We hastened out and into the station. 



234 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

All the trunks but our own had been checked. With 
his hand upon one of these, an official demanded the 
key, upon our appearance. Remembering an episode in 
its packing, we demurred, and proffered the key of 
another. Already vexed by the delay, his suspicions 
were roused now. He demanded the key of the first, 
which we gave up with wicked delight. The by-stand- 
ers drew near. Indeed, a crowd was the embarrassing 
accompaniment to all our unfortunate experiences. 
The official turned the key with the air of doing his 
duty if he perished in the attempt, when the lid flew 
open, and a hoop-skirt, compressed to the final degree, 
sprang up into his startled face, like a Jack-in-the-box. 
The spectators laughed — French though they were — 
as, very red in the face, he vainly tried to replace it, 
entirely forgetting to search for contraband articles. 

No other incident disturbed the quiet of that long 
day's ride to Paris. At some queer little station we 
descended to lunch, and returned to our places, laden, 
like the spies of Eschol, with luscious grapes. Our 
fellow-travellers dropped out along the way, only, how- 
ever, to be replaced by others. We had not succeeded 
in securing places in the compartment reserved for 
ladies alone ; but the French gentlemen who were our 
companions proved most courteous in their polite indif- 
ference to our movements. An old gentleman among 
these, elicited our outspoken admiration for his grand 
head. We were secure in our native language, we 
knew. 

u Lovely face ! " we exclaimed, unblushingly. " What 
a head for a sculptor! Quite like Michel Angelo's 
Moses, I declare." 



BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 235 

Before the day was over, "Michel Angelo's Moses" 
addressed us in excellent English. 

When the darkness gathered, when the night settled 
down, something of its gloom oppressed us. Once 
safely housed in Paris, we should be at rest ; but there 
were still difficulties to be overcome. Our friends had 
telegraphed to Miss H. that we should arrive by this 
train ; but the number of her house Ave did not know, 
nor did they. We were only sure that her apartments 
were over the Magasin cm Printemps. Still that 
was tolerably exact ; we would not be uneasy. At ten 
o'clock at night we stepped down from the train into 
a confusion of tongues and elbows which I cannot 
describe, and followed the crowd into the baggage- 
room. I say followed — we were literally lifted from 
our feet and borne along. There was no baggage in 
sight. We waited until an hour seemed to have 
passed, and still no trunks appeared. 

" Suppose we leave them, and send a porter from 
the house in the morning to find them;" and acting 
upon this, we struggled out of the station into the 
great paved square at one side. The night was dark ; 
but the gas-lights dimly lighted up aline of carriages at 
the farther side, towards which we hastened, and had 
seated ourselves in one, when a" commissionaire came 
running across the square, and putting his head in at 
the carriage window, asked if we had any baggage. 

" Yes," we replied ; but the rattling words that fol- 
lowed brought only confusion to us. Our minds, already 
overtaxed, gave way at once. It is pleasant to recall 
the patience and good-nature of that official. It is 
pleasant, when old things have so entirely passed away, 



236 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

to remember the Paris of 1869 as, at least, a city into 
which women might come at midnight, alone, unpro- 
tected, and be not only free from insult and imposition, 
but actually cared for, and sent to their rightful 
destination, in spite of their own ignorance and in- 
competence. 

" Stay here," said our friend in uniform ; and he dis- 
appeared, to return in a moment with the stout French 
gentleman who had been our companion in the hotel 
omnibus at Basle. We met with mutual surprise, and 
pleasure on our side at least. 

" Do any one look for your baggage?" he asked. 

" No," we replied. " We thought we might leave it." 

" You must go " he said. 

The commissionaire took possession of our check 
and the driver's carte, and I followed the two back to 
the station, leaving Mrs. K. to guard our satchels, &c, 
in the carriage. 

" Wait one leetle moment," said the kind French 
gentleman ; " I bring madame." And in a moment he 
dragged the fussy little woman from the crowd, hand- 
ing her over w T ith the triumphant air of having now 
settled all difficulties. 

"Madame speak ze Eengleesh fine," he said. 

Looking down from an immeasurable height, the little 
madam condescended to remark that their servant was 
looking for their baggage. 

" Ah ! " I responded. " Then we are not permitted 
to leave our trunks." 

" I am sure I don't know," she replied, looking so 
greatly bored, not to say exhausted, that I did not 
think it best to press the matter. " Our servant is 
attending to it," she repeated. 



BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 237 

Her husband's face fairly glowed with satisfaction 
while this side conversation was being carried on. 
Evidently he believed the whole French baggage sys- 
tem to have been elucidated for my benefit. I thanked 
him heartily, as we exchanged cordial adieus. Even 
the fussy Utile woman gathered, for the moment, suf- 
ficient life to attempt to bow ; which, alas ! never got 
beyond a stare. The commissionaire seized upon a 
blue-bloused porter, and gave me to him with the 
check, the carle, and a few sharply-spoken directions. 
Clinging to that blue sleeve, I was borne through the 
swaying, surging mass of humanity, into the bag- 
gage-room — how, I never knew. Our trunks Mere 
identified, lilted, not thrown, by my porter upon a 
hand-truck, which dragged for itself and us an opening 
in the crowd. Once out upon the platform, the porter 
pushed doggedly on into the darkness, though I had 
left Mrs. K. and the carriage in the square at one side. 
I expostulated. He held persistently to his course. I 
gave one thought to poor Mrs. K., resigned to what 
fate I knew not, and then, woman-like, followed my 
trunks. 

It was all explained, when, dimly outlined in the 
darkness before the station, we espied a sea of shiny 
hats and shadowy cabs ; and when, after long shouting 
of the number of our own, by the porter and every- 
body else, it finally crawled up to the steps where we 
were standing, Mrs. K.'s anxious face looking out of 
the window. 

" I began to think you were lost," she said. " You 
can fancy my feelings when the driver gathered up 
the reins and drove out of that square." 



288 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

We made a thank-offering upon the palm of e very- 
grimy hand, suddenly outstretched ; then the driver 
paused, whip in the air, for the address of our des- 
tination. 

"Magasin au Printemps, Boulevard Haussman." 
He stared, as everybody had, and did, along the way. 
If they only wouldn't ! We repeated it. He con- 
ferred, in a low tone, with the man on the next box, 
who got down from his place, and came around to our 
window to look at us. One or two lounging porters 
joined him. The Ma-gas in au Printemps is a large 
dry and fancy goods establishment, which had been 
closed, of course, for hours, since it was now nearly 
midnight. It was as though we had reached New 
York late at night, and insisted upon being driven to 
Steumri's. The little crowd stared at us solemnly, in 
a kind of pitiful curiosity, I fancied. I think, by this 
time, our countenances may have expressed incipient 
idiocy. We attempted to explain that Miss H.'s 
apartments were over the Magasin, and the driver 
mounted to his seat, though, I am obliged to confess, 
with an ominous shake of his head. 

As we rolled out into the wide boulevards our spirits 
rose. The sidewalks were crowded with promena- 
ders, the streets with carriages. The light of a 
glorious day seemed to have burst upon our dazzled 
eyes. Paris, gay, beautiful Paris, which never sleeps, 
was out, disporting herself. 

" We will not be anxious," we said ; nor were we in 
the least. " Even if we cannot find Miss H.'s, some 
hotel will take us in. Or, failing in that, we can drive 
about until morning." 



BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 239 

A thought of our respective and respectable families 
diil cross our minds with this lawless suggestion. In 
happy unconsciousness, they believed us still safe with 
our friends. 

We crawled up the Boulevard Haussman. There 
were the closed doors and shutters of the Magasin au 
Printemps. Two or three other doors met our gaze. 
The driver paused before one. We descended, and 
pulled the bell. You must know there are no door- 
steps, in Paris, leading to front doors, as with us. The 
first floor is, almost without exception, given up to 
shops; and dwellings, unless pretentious enough to 
be houses enclosing a court-yard and entered from 
the street by passing through great gates, are simply 
apartments in the two, three, and four stories above 
these shops. 

Some invisible mechanism swung back the great 
double doors as we pulled the bell, disclosing a pretty, 
paved court-yard, with a fountain in the centre, sur- 
rounded by pots of flowers. A glass door at one side, 
revealed wide marble stairs, down which a charming 
little portress was tripping. 

"Is this Miss H.'s?" we asked in English. She 
only shook her head. We paraded our French. She 
seemed lost in thought for a moment, then, with a 
" Out, Old" ran past us to the carriage, and gave some 
directions to the driver, emphasizing her words with a 
pair of plump little hands. Then, with a "bo?i nuit" 
she disappeared, and the great doors closed again. 
Evidently we were being taken care of, we thought, 
as we settled back again in the carriage. We stopped 
before another door, already open, and disclosing a 



240 AJV AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD, 

flight of wide, stone stairs, ascending almost from the 
sidewalk. Immediately upon pulling the bell — as 
though the wire had been attached to it — a long, loose- 
jointed, grotesque, yet horrible figure appeared at the 
head of the stairs, half-stooping to bring himself within 
the range of my vision, swinging his arms like a Dutch 
windmill, and grinning in a way which seemed to open 
his whole head. 

" Is — is this Miss H.'s ? " I ventured from the side- 
walk. 

He only beckoned still more wildly for me to ascend. 
I drew back. Good Heavens! What was the matter 
with him ? And still, while I stared fascinated, yet 
horror-stricken, he continued, without intermission, 
these speechless contortions and evolutions. Although 
he uttered not a sound, he seemed to say with every 
cracking joint, " Come up, come up," while he scooped 
the air with his bony hands. 

I remembered that it was midnight ; that we were 
alone, and in wicked Paris ; that we had been reli- 
giously brought up ; that Mrs. K.'s husband was the 
superintendent of a large and flourishing Sunday 
school ; that my father was a minister of the gospel. 
I planted my feet firmly upon the sidewalk. I folded 
my arms rigidly. I shook my head virtuously. Come 
up ? Chains should not drag me. Then I turned to 
the carriage. 

" Mrs. K., do come and see this man." 

She came. Together we stared at him with rigid 
and severe countenances. 

" Dreadful ! " said I, remembering the Sunday 
school. 




Together we stared at him with rigid and severe countenances. 
Page 240. 



BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 241 

" Awful ! " said she, recalling the pious ancestors. 
And again we shook our heads at his blandishments to 
the point of dislocation. The driver, who had been 
all this time tipped back against a tree, began to show 
symptoms of impatience. Something must be done. 

" Suppose you ask for some one who can speak Eng- 
lish," suggested Mrs. K. 

" Sure enough." And I did. With one last, terri- 
ble grimace the ogre's heels disappeared up the second 
flight of stairs. 

There came down in a moment a thoroughly re- 
spectable appearing porter, who informed us, in English, 
that we were expected, our telegram having been re- 
ceived ; though, through the ambiguity of its address, 
it had been sent first to a house below. The people 
there had promised to forward us, however, in case we 
followed the telegram. This accounted for the move- 
ments of the little portress. 

The ogre proved to be a most good-natured conci- 
erge, who had been instructed to keep the door open in 
anticipation of our arrival. 

So our fears had been but feathers, after all, blown 
away by a breath ; our troubles only a dream, to be 
laughed over in the awakening. 

Here the story of our journeying may end. The 
remaining distance, through the kindness of friends, 
new and old, was accomplished without difficulty or 
annoyance. We reached our own homes in due time, 
and like the princess in the fairy tales, " lived happily 
forever afterwards." 

A few practical words suggest themselves here which 
would pass unnoticed in a preface — where, perhaps, 



242 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

they belong. First, in regard to the question often 
asked, "Can women travel alone through Europe?" 
Recalling our own experience, — too brief to serve as 
a criterion, — I should still say, " Tes. n We met, fre- 
quently, parties of ladies who had made the whole 
grand tour alone. In Switzerland we found English 
women, constantly, without escort. The care of choos- 
ing routes, of looking after baggage and buying tick- 
ets, of managing the sometimes complicated affairs 
attendant upon sight-seeing, with the vexations and 
impositions met with and suffered on every hand, no 
woman would voluntarily accept without great com- 
pensation, I am sure. But if she prefers even these 
cares to seeing nothing of the world, they can be 
borne, and the annoyances, to a great extent overcome, 
through patience and growing experience. 

Then, if you start alone, or without being consigned 
to friends upon the other side, — which no young wo- 
man would think of doing, — you are almost sure to 
join, at different times, other parties, whose way is your 
own ; and far preferable this is to making up a large 
company before leaving home — the members of which 
usually disagree before reaching the continent, and 
often part in mutual disgust. " There is nothing like 
travelling to bring out a person's real nature," say 
some. But this is untrue. Travelling develops, 
rather than reveals, I think, and under conditions 
favorable only to the worse side of one's nature. You 
are bewildered by the multitude of strange sights and 
ways; the very foundation of usages is broken up; 
you are putting forth physical exertions that would 
seem superhuman at home, and are mentally racked 



BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 243 

until utterly exhausted, — for there is nothing so ex- 
hausting as continued sight-seeing, — and at this point 
people say they begin " to find each other out." 

An occasional period of rest — not staying within 
doors to study up the guide-books, but entire cessation 
from seeing, hearing, or doing — and a scrap from the 
mantle of charity, will save many a threatened friend- 
ship at these times. We learned to know our strength 
— how weak it was; and to await in some delightful 
sjDot, chosen for the purpose, returning energy, courage, 
and interest / for even that would be banished at times 
by utter weariness and exhaustion. 

In former times, Americans fitted themselves out for 
Europe as though bound to a desert island. Wider 
intelligence and experience have opened their eyes and 
reformed their judgment; still, a word upon this sub- 
ject will not be unwelcome, I am sure, to girls espe- 
cially, who contemplate a trip over the ocean. 

In the first place, your steamer outfit is a distinct 
affair. You are allowed to take any baggage you wish 
for into your state-room ; but, if wise, you will not fill 
the narrow space, nor encumber yourself with any- 
thing larger than a lady's hat box, which may offer a 
tolerable seat to the stewardess, or visitors of condo*- 
lence, in case seasickness confines you to berth or sofa. 
Even preferable to this is a flat, English portmanteau, 
which can be slipped under the lower berth. If you 
sail for Liverpool, you can leave this at your hotel there 
in charge of the head waiter until j^ou return, and thus 
avoid the expense and care of useless baggage. 

Its contents your own good sense will in a measure 
suggest. Let me add — a double gown or woollen 



244 AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. 

wrapper, in which you may sleep, flannels (even though 
you cross the ocean in summer), merino stockings, 
warm gloves or mittens, as pretty a hood as you please, 
only be sure that it covers the back of your head, 
since you will ignore all cunning craft of hair dress- 
ing, for a few days at least, and even after you are 
well enough to appear at the table, perhaps. Bear in 
mind that the Northern Atlantic is a cold place, and 
horribly open to the wind at all seasons of the year ; 
that you will live on the deck when not in your berth 
or at your meals, and that the deck of an ocean 
steamer partakes of the nature of a whirlwind. Fur 
is by no means out of place, and skirts should be suffi- 
ciently heavy to defy the gales, which convert every- 
thing into a sail. Take as many wraps as you choose 
— and then you will wish you had one more. A large 
shawl, or, better, a carriage-robe, is indispensable, as 
you will very likely lie rolled up like a cocoon much 
of the time. A low sea-chair, or common camp-chair, 
is useful to older people ; but almost any girl will pre- 
fer a seat upon the deck itself ; there are comfortable 
crannies into which no chair can be wedged. 

By all means avoid elaborate fastenings to garments. 
A multiplicity of unmanageable " hooks and eyes " is 
untold torment at sea ; and let these garments be few, 
but warm. You will appreciate the wisdom of this 
suggestion, when you have accomplished the hercu- 
lean task of making your first state-room toilet. 

If you are really going abroad for a season of travel^ 
take almost nothing. You can never know what you 
will need until the necessity arises. If you anticipate, 
you misjudge. Your American outfit will render you 



BACK TO PARIS ALONE. 245 

an oddity in England. But do not change there, or 
you will be still more singular in Paris. 'It is as well 
to start with but one dress besides the one you wear 
on the steamer — anything you chance to have; a 
black alpaca, or half-worn black silk, is very service- 
able. When you reach Paris, circumstances and the 
season will govern your purchases ; and this same 
dress will be almost a necessity for constant railway 
journeys, rainy-day sight-seeing, and mule-riding in 
Switzerland. A little care and brushing, fresh linen, 
and a pretty French tie, will make it presentable — if 
not more — at any hotel dinner table. 

A warm shawl or wrap of some kind you will need 
for evenings, — even though you travel in summer, — 
for visiting the cathedrals, which are chill as a tomb ; 
and for weeks together among the mountains you will 
never throw it aside. But if you can take but one, 
dorCt provide yourself with a water-proof. They are 
too undeniably ugly, and not sufficiently warm for con- 
stant wear. If it rains slightly, the umbrella, which 
you will buy from force of necessity and example in 
England, will protect you; if in torrents, you will ride. 
Indeed, you will always ride, time is so precious, cab- 
hire so cheap, and distances so great in most foreign 
cities. 

Lastly, let me I>eg of you to provide yourself with 
an abundant supply of patience and good-nature. 
Without these, no outfit is complete. Try to laugh at 
annoyances. Smile, at least. And do not anticipate 
difficulties. Above all, enjoy yourself, and then every- 
body you meet will enjoy you. And so good by, and 
" God bless us every one." 



List of Books Recently Published 

BY 

LEE & SHEPARD, 

149 Washington Street, Boston. 



EUROPEAN TRAVEL. 



OVER THE OCEAN, OR SIGHTS AND SCENES IN 

FOREIGN LANDS. By Curtis Guild, editor Boston 
Cotnmerctal Bulletin. I vol. Crown 8vo. Price, $2.50. 

This bright and vivacious book of foreign travel has received 

the most flattering encomiums from the press all over the 

country. 

The Nezv York Tribune says : — 

" Guild's choice of topics is excellent ; the interest of his descriptions never 
flags. No virtuous American with the hope of a Parisian heaven before his 
eyes should fail to remember this volume while packing for the voyage." 

"The New York A Ibioyi says : — 

"This is certainly a collection of some of the most perfect pen-pictures of 
Sights and Scenes in Foreign Lands we have ever read." 

Rev. H. W. Bellows says, in the Liberal Christian: — 

" It is one of the best books of foreign travel ever published in this 
country." 

Rev. Edward Everett Hale, says: — 

"I read it with constant interest — and I read but few books of travel." 

AN AMERICAN WOMAN IN EUROPE. Thejournalof two 

weeks' sojourn in France, Switzerland, Italy, and Ger- 
many. By Mrs. S. R. Urbino, author of " The Princes 
of Art." i2mo. Cloth. $1.50. 

The Providence Press says : — 

" A pleasant gossip with an intelligent person who has just returned from 
Europe, and all the little details of daily life, combined with the cost of every- 
thing, is given with an ease and grace which is charming." 
The Phila. Journal of Commerce says : — 

"A remarkably pleasant and chatty book of travel." 
The Chicago Commercial says : — 

"A pleasant break in the monotony of stories of European trips. 
"She tel's you the best and cheapest way to travel, the shortest and pleas- 
antest routes, the best sights to see, the best hotels to live in, and just how 
much it costs to travel, see, or live in the far countries she describes." 



Lee &* Shepard's Recent Publications. 



E SCHWARTZ'S CELEBRATED NOVELS. 




MARIE SOPHIE. SCHWARTZ. 



TWO FAMILY MOTHERS. 8vo. Paper, $i; Cloth, $1.50. 

"The plot is carried forward by characters lifelike and interesting, the 
whole leading to scenes everywhere fascinating and instructive." — Albany 
Evening Post. 

THE RIGHT ONE. 8vo. Paper, $1.00; Cloth, $1.50. 

" Of all the light literature of the day, that of this Swedish writer may be 
pronounced among the most interesting and least injurious." — Phrenological 
Journal. 

GOLD AND NAME. 8vo. Paper, $1.00; Cloth, $1.50. 

"This is a powerful book; in plot and style it is equally good. Its morals 
— it may be considered to have several — are unexceptionable; one thought 
is beautiful — that neither Gold nor Name can satisfy, and both may prove 
the curse of those who seek them." — Christian Standard, Cincinnati. 

BIRTH AND EDUCATION. 8vo. Paper, $1; Cloth, $1.50. 

" This title would make one suppose that it was a book devoted to common 
schools and academies. Instead of that it is a romance of the very highest 
class ; one of the best historical novels of the age." — Alb. Eveni?ig Post. 

GUILT AND INNOCENCE. 8vo. Paper, $1; Cloth, $1.50. 

" Madame Schwartz is a writer of much greater literary merit than Miss 
Muhibach, whose works have been so widely circulated in this country, and 
her productions cannot fail to meet with at least equal success." — New York 
A tlas. 

THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 8vo. Paper, $1; Cloth, 
$1.50. 

"Brighter, fresher, and better worth reading than nine tenths of modern 
novels." — Worcester Gazette. 



Lee &° SheparcPs Recent Publications. 



THREE SPLENDID BOOKS. 



CLOUD PICTURES. By F. H. Underwood. i6mo. Cloth. 
$2.00. Comprising: 

1. The Exile of Von Adelstein's Soul. 

2. topankalon. 

3. Herr Regenbogen's Concert. 

4. A Great Organ Prelude. 

Four stories drawn entirely from the author's fancy, different 
in character, though partaking of the same peculiar style, 
make up the " Cloud Pictures." 

"The 'Exile of Von Adelstein's Soul' is a strange tale of the supernat- 
ural, repulsive in details, distasteful in conception ; but skilfully worked out, 
elaborate in style, and artistically finished. 

" ' Topankalon ' is far pleasanter in its influence. A charming Utopian 
life is rudely broken in upon by barbaric power, and a sweet feminine influ- 
ence refines and conquers savage force, and produces in the union of the two 
elements culture and strength, the highest conditions of civilized life. 

"The remaining stories are specially adapted to the taste of musical en- 
thusiasts. The book is beautiful in mechanical finish, matter and manner 
harmonizing in refinement and tasteful elegance." — Bosto?i Transcript. 

THE DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER. By Sophie May. i6mo. 

Cloth. $1.50. 
All the tenderness, earnestness, and jollity which characterize 

her writings for j'oung folks, and which causes them to 

be as eagerly sought by parents as children, abound in 

this story for older readers. 

"Bright as a sunbeam, natural as life itself, unpretending as real goodness, 
and sanitary as the personal effect of pure spring water." —Boston Trans. 

"A Prudy Story grown up and, with all the charming grace and subtle 
delicacy of its juvenile predecessor, possesses the added interest due to the 
fact that it is a story of men and women instead of children." — New York 
Citizen and Round Table. 

" So charmingly told that from first to last the interest never lessens." — 
Hearth and Home. 

"A sound, healthy, interesting story. " — Prov. Press. 

RU3Y DUKE. A Novel of Society. By Mrs. H. K. Pot- 
win. i2mo. Cloth. $1.50. 

"The struggles, trials, and achievements of Ruby are nothing startling, 
grand, or sentimental, but serve to illustrate the fact that in every life there is 
some sure possibility waiting for development, and some bud of promise that 
shall blossom into a fragrant flower of Christian grace under proper care." 

"The author has drawn a very beautiful character in the heroine of this 
vol ume. ' ' — Episcopal. 

"Naturally and gracefully told." — Concord Statesman. 

"A pleasing and well written story of woman's life and development." — 
Buffalo Courier. 

"Written in a free and vigorous style." — Salem Gazette. 



Lee &* SheftarcPs Recent Publications. 



WORTHY PARTICULAR ATTENTION. 



PENS AND TYPES. Hints and Helps to all who Write, 
Print, or Read. By Benjamin Drew. i6mo. Cloth. 
$1.50. 

'"Pens and Types' is the title of a little book by Benjamin Drew, con- 
taining such hints and guides for people who write for the press, and printers, 
as long experience in the work of proof reading has taught him to be essen- 
tial. There are two classes of people who never properly prepare their man- 
uscript for publication — those who do not know how to do it, and those who 
do not care whether they do it or not. The former may be benefited by these 
hints ; the latter are incorrigible." — Boston Advertiser. 

BEHIND THE BARS. i 2 mo. Cloth. $2.00. 

"We have read it with no little interest. It treats of a class of persons 
who, incapable of judging for themselves, should be the more carefully and 
tenderly looked after by their relatives, friends, and the State ; and should not 
be confided to institutions, without continuous scrutiny and attention. We 
have heard of some sad delinquency on the part of those to whose care such 
sufferers have been committed." — Methodist Protestant. 

" Many works upon the treatment proper for insane patients have been pub- 
lished ; but never, we believe, until now, has one been produced so well cal- 
culated by its details to promote the essential benefit of those whose state so 
strongly appeals to the liveliest sympathies of mankind." 

ART ; Its Laws and the Reasons for Them. Collected, con- 
densed, and arranged for General and Educational Pur- 
poses. By Samuel P. Long, Counsellor at Law, Student 
of the English Royal Academy, and Pupil of the late 
Gilbert Stuart Newton, R. A. i2mo. Cloth. With 
Steel Engravings and Wood-Cuts. $3.00. 

Hon. George B. Emerson, in a note to the author, says : — 

" I believe that any person who shall carefully read it would so understand 
the principles, and have his eyes opened to the beauties of art, that he would 
never look upon a picture, a statue, or a noble building, without more interest 
and a higher power of appreciating and enjoying it." 

TILESTON'S HAND-BOOK OF THE ADMINISTRA- 
TIONS OF THE UNITED STATES. i6mo. Flexible: 
With Photographs of the Presidents from Washington 
to Grant. $1.50. Large paper copies (limited), $2.50. 

"From this excellent beginning to the conclusion, the book is replete with 
the most interesting information. Each Administration receives its fair share 
of outline. When there have been messages or proclamations of importance, 
they are given either fully or in well-chosen extracts. Especial attention has 
been given to Mr. Lincoln, and indeed, an epitome of the war is thus pre- 
sented. Besides a history in brief of each President and his policy, we find 
lists of the different Cabinets, and an analysis of contemporaneous history. 
The style is clear and concise ; and the book forms an entertaining and useful 
manual. If the reader could remember its contents, he would be well in- 
formed as to the entire history of this country." — Philadelphia Age. 



Lee (Sr 9 SheparcFs Recent Publications. 



IMPORTANT RELIGIOUS WORKS. 



HALF TRUTHS AND THE TRUTH. Lectures on 
the Origin and Development of prevailing forms of Un- 
belief considered in relation to the Nature and Claims of 
the Christian System. By Rev. J. M. Manning, D. D., 
Pastor of the Old South Church, Boston. i2tno. Cloth. 

$2.00. 

" This substantial volume, of almost 400 pages, embraces Dr. Manning's 
lectures on popular infidelity, its source, its development, and its relation to 
what is known as the Biblical or Christian system. The topics of these nine 
lectures are, — Spinoza and ether masters, The Nature and Grounds of Pan- 
theism, The German Succession, Pantheistic Christology, The Culture which 
Pantheism legitimates, Pantheism in the form of Hero-worship, in the Form 
of Self-worship, Theism with a Pantheistic Drift, and the Strength and 
Weakness of Pantheism." — Christian Mirror. 

THE SWORD AND GARMENT, OR MINISTERIAL 

CULTURE. By Rev. L. T. Townsend, D. D., Professor 
in Boston Theological Seminary. i6mo. Cloth. $1.50. 

"The layman who will study this book carefully will be able to form a more 
correct estimate of his pastor's sermons than can be done without it, and 
every preacher who will read it cannot fail to see how religious subjects must 
be presented in modern times to meet modern wants." — Literary World. 

"That ministerial readers will agree with the author in all respects, is not 
to be expected. They will, all the same, find his book replete with quicken- 
ing and with good counsel. We almost think, however, that those not minis- 
ters need it most. The relations of Pew and Pulpit would be rendered 
far more pleasant and profitable, mutually, if Pew understood better what 
Pulpit really ought to be, and in what ways it may efficiently help it in be- 
coming such." — Christian Standard. 

DEAN ALFORD'S NEW TESTAMENT COMMEN- 
TARY FOR ENGLISH READERS, containing the Author- 
ized Version, with a revised English Version; with all 
the new readings from the recently found Sinaitic Manu- 
script, which was discovered by Constantine Teschen- 
dorf, in a Convent on Mount Sinai; also, containing 
Marginal References, and a Critical and Explanatory 
. Commentary, with Maps of the Journeyings of Our Lord 
and of St. Paul ; and an Introduction to each book, giving 
an account of the authorship, authenticity, time and 
place of writing, &c, &c, forming a compact Biblical 
Library. 4 vols. 8vo. Cloth, $16.00; half calf, $26.00. 

DEAN ALFORD'S GREEK TESTAMENT, with a 

Critically Revised Text; a Digest of various Readings; 
Marginal References to Verbal and Idiomatic Usage ; Pro- 
legomena ; and a copious Critical and Exegetical Com- 
mentary in English. 4 vols. 8vo. Cloth, $30.00; half 
calf, $42.00. 



Lee 6° Sheftarcfs Recent Publicatioiis. 



NORTHERN LANDS, or Young America in Russia and 
Prussia. By Oliver Optic. i6mo. Illustrated. $1.50. 

UP THE BALTIC, or Young America in Sweden, Nor- 
way and Denmark. One handsome i6mo volume. Il- 
lustrated. $1.50. 

" Oliver Optic is so well known to the boys of America that he needs no 
introduction, nor do his writings require any editorial indorsement. His 
name on the title-page of any volume is enough to insure its immediate ac- 
ceptance." — New York Citizen and Round Table. 

BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, or The Struggles of a Sol- 
dier. By Oliver Optic. i6mo. Illustrated. $1.25. 

"This volume, attractively bound uniformly with the previous numbers 
of the series, and neatly illustrated, details the further history of the hero, 
Phil Farringford, locating the scene of his adventures in New York, and at 
the scene of the Italian war in 1859, and shows how, through all his struggles 
as a Soldier, true to his motto, 'Upward and Onward,' he was ever true to 
himself, to his friends, and to his God." — Worcester Gazette. 

OLIVER OPTIC'S ALMANAC. Fully Iliust. 30 cts. 

"Who does not know who Oliver Optic is, of his many juvenile books that 
are read by Young America all over the land ? Well, his Almanac is equal to 
half a dozen books. Be sure and get one." — Peru Herald. 

"The Sest Juvenile Magazine in the World." 

OLIVER OPTIC'S MAGAZINE. Published by Lee & 
Shepard, 149 Washington St., Boston, at $2.50 a Year. 

"A careful examination of this magazine shews that it fairly takes the lead 
in juvenile periodical literature. It contains more matter and in greater va- 
riety, is better illustrated, displays more genuine editorial work than any of its 
rivals in the field, and its great popularity and ever increasing circulation are 
proofs that this is the verdict of the public." 



Tit© TJixi^rei^ssLl Verdict. 
(< ' Oliver Optic' is a nom de plume that is known and loved 
by almost every boy of intelligence in the land. We have 
seen a highly intellectual and world-weary man, a cynic 
whose heart was somewhat imbittered by its large experience 
of human nature, take up one of Oliver Optic's books and 
read it at a sitting, neglecting his work in yielding to the 
fascination of the pages. When a mature and exceedingly 
well-informed mind, long despoiled of all its freshness, can 
thus find pleasure in a book for boys, no additional words of 
recommendation are needed." — Sunday Times, iV. Y, City. 
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